


Still As Bright

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys in Chains, First Time, M/M, Slash, Slave Obi-Wan, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 78,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Wolfe </p><p>Qui-Gon is given a gift (yes it's another Obi slave story).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Disclaimer: Sadly I neither own them nor do I get any money.

Oban was curled in his usual spot overlooking the garden when the head of the harem guard entered the room and ordered the first group into their work wear. Oban continued to read, as Favoured slave he was not called upon to entertain the dinner guests.

"You too, Oban."

He looked up into the guard's eyes an eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Sed Shara has a special task for you. Get ready ... and make sure you look ... enticing."

Oban shot a look over his shoulder and snorted.  _*Look enticing! What did they expect from a pleasure slave?*_  Stripping off his clothes as he entered his room Oban spared a thought for what they had in mind for him. He had learned young that resisting led to pain for no one but himself ... even sly rebellion didn't help ... the best thing was to be the perfect, obedient slave, that way you were harassed as little as possible and treated as a valuable asset.

Pulling on silky golden trousers, Oban leaned towards the mirror to draw a fine smoky line around his eyes. He inspected the effect and added a shimmer of colour across his eyelids and a discrete rosy stain to his lips. Taking another long look, he grimaced at his reflection. *Valuable asset* that was him ... still he had not been whipped or sent for the use of the guards since that terrible night when he had still believed he could escape ... his life wasn't his own but at least he *was* alive.

As he turned, the light gleamed on the slender golden band around his throat. He paused and raised a hand to hover over the hated collar. He was the only slave to wear one and he had never really understood why. Some of the other slaves said it signified his favoured status but there were murmurs that he was a freak. They said the collar was a control device, that when he first arrived he had been crazed and had caused damage to the guards and to himself.

Oban had only the haziest memories of his arrival at the palace and none of his life before but he *did* remember the searing pain when they placed the collar around his neck. The pain had faded over the years but in it's place was a numbness that extended from his chin to his shoulders. His fingers almost skimmed the metal but then drew back and he shuddered as he remembered the agony that always followed when he touched the collar.

Entering the banqueting hall with the other slaves, Oban was called to stand with the head guard while the others went to join Sed Shara and be distributed at the Trader's whim. The head guard moved towards the high table with Oban in his wake. After one swift glance at the table Oban kept his eyes lowered. Being offered for the use of an important guest meant that he only had one person to please. He sank to his knees as the guard came to a halt. The hall was hot and smoky and there was the usual cacophony of noise but Oban was aware of a sense of serenity and peace emanating from the man in front of him.

"Sed Shara asks that you accept this gift, Master Jedi."

Oban blinked, *a Jedi*, well that explained the peaceful aura. He ignored the guard's words having heard them all before and tried to sense more about the man he was being offered to. Serenity and strength seemed to flow from the Jedi. Oban took a chance and stole a glimpse upward. He felt the tension in his stomach ease as he saw the serenity reflected in the Jedi's demeanour. While they were not looking at him the man's deep blue eyes glowed with intelligence and understanding ... he looked kind.

A movement caught Oban's attention. The guard leaned forward and dropped something in the Jedi's outstretched hand. "The key to his collar. I will send his papers to you before you leave. Your acceptance honours us, Sir Jedi."

A wave of relief washed through him. He didn't know whether the Jedi kept slaves but even if they did they had to be an improvement on the Trade Clans ... nothing could be worse. With a deep sigh Oban let his head fall forward to rest on the linen clad knee before him, whispering "Thank you, Master."

* * *

  
  
Jedi master or not he was in a funk. To all outward appearances Qui-Gon Jinn was enjoying the raucous music, the lewd jokes, the crude advances from the diners seated near him, but behind the customary serene demeanour he was bored and faintly disgusted. He allowed his wine cup to be refilled again and decided that he had done his duty and could excuse himself from the festivities as soon as the next set of dances ended and his cup was empty.  
  
The new planetary ruler, Ashteni denFaret, leaned close to Qui-Gon's ear to murmur yet another story that showed his opponents in the worst possible light when the Jedi's attention was caught by the faint whisper of a presence in the Force. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this trace. The people of Gatharn were not Force sensitive so the hint of a sentient in the Force was unexpected and intriguing. Each time Qui-Gon had become aware of it he had reached out but each time it had slipped away and faded. This time it seemed to be getting stronger ... and closer.  
  
He was carefully searching for the source when Ashteni's voice rose slightly and took on a satisfied tone. "Ah, Master Jinn, the Trade clans have something for you."  
  
Shining, tawny hair fell forward as a young man sank to his knees. The sensuous glow of light playing on gleaming skin drew the Jedi's eyes across well defined muscle as the vague presence settled to a cool clear aura around the slim, kneeling body. It was a Force signature that would do a senior padawan proud though it was oddly muted and unfocussed.  
  
"Sed Shara asks that you accept his gift, Master Jedi."  
  
The oily, insinuating voice dragged Qui-Gon's attention away from the lithe youth kneeling at his feet to the bulky clansman standing beside him. "Gift?"  
  
The clansman pointed downward. "The Trade clans wish to thank you for mediating this agreement. Sed Shara offers this pleasure slave as an expression of gratitude."  
  
*Jedi don't accept gifts.* The usual words of refusal hovered on his lips but Qui-Gon stopped them, searching the aura surrounding the slave. The youth was definitely Force sensitive. By accepting the gift he was rescuing him from a life of slavery and probable degradation ... surely the Council would sanction accepting *this* gift?  
  
Qui-Gon inclined his head gravely. "Sed Shara is most generous. May I know his name?"  
  
"He's called Oban." The clan guard held his hand out and dropped a narrow piece of metal into the Jedi's palm. "The key to his collar. I will send his papers to you before you leave. Your acceptance honours us, Sir Jedi."  
  
Reflecting that the traders would find their error if they tried to claim an obligation from the Jedi, or from him personally, the Jedi master nodded and watched the trader return to his clan. A soft pressure on his leg brought his attention back to the young man who had leaned forward slightly and was resting his forehead on Qui-Gon's knees. A low elegant voice whispered, "Thank you, Master."  
  
Gratitude and relief permeated the Force. Qui-gon reflected that the boy must be desperate indeed to be so happy at being given to a total stranger. Gently lifting Oban's chin the Jedi smiled reassuringly into wide smoky eyes made huge with the subtle use of cosmetics and the glow of trust. "Let us leave this place Oban."  
  
Oban rose gracefully, lowering his eyes and following as Qui-Gon made his farewells to the ruler and his court. Ignoring the lecherous suggestions and knowing smiles the Jedi steered his new possession from the banqueting hall. As they moved through the palace corridors Oban placed himself at Qui-Gon's left shoulder, half a pace behind. Qui-Gon smiled inwardly at the thought that, but for the boy's provocative clothing, they could have been master and padawan. Resisting the urge to drape his robe around the youth's naked shoulders, Qui-Gon quickened his pace a little as they passed the knowing eyes of guards and servants.  
  
Once in his rooms Qui-Gon shrugged off the robe and turned to find Oban again kneeling at his feet. This time he was bowed so that his forehead touched the floor, his hands laid flat beside his knees. It was the ritual position of a penitent padawan. Disturbed to have this young man prostrate himself thus before him Qui-Gon leaned and rested a hand on Oban's shoulder. "Please, don't do that Oban, there is no need."  
  
Oban raised his head but remained kneeling. "Master?" a careful question in his voice.  
  
Sitting on the couch Qui-Gon gestured to the seat beside him. "I would rather you sat. And there is no need to call me 'Master'. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."  
  
Oban looked confused but he nodded obediently and rose to sit on the couch, close enough that the Jedi could feel the heat of the young man's body and smell the sweet, spicy smell of him, but with a careful distance between them. Qui-Gon searched the man beside him and was relieved to see that although he was wary there was no fear in his eyes or in his aura.  
  
"I think we should take this off." He touched the slender golden collar Oban wore and recoiled at the cold, dark ache that shot up his arm as a numbness spread through his senses. How could anyone wear this vile thing? How could a Force sensitive bear it's touch?  
  
There were a number of substances that could be used to 'damp' the Force. Most worked by inhibiting the connection between the mind and the Force, though there were some that simply suppressed the awareness to such a degree that no useable amount of the Force could be manipulated. The collar about Oban's throat was something else, something the Jedi had never encountered before, something that seemed to twist and distort the Force. It felt profoundly wrong.  
  
Oban watched as the Jedi retrieved the key from his belt and felt a whisper at the edge of his perception as Qui-Gon searched for the opening in the collar. Oban's eyes were fixed on the small piece of metal as though it was his lifeline ... which in a way it was, cutting a Force sensitive off from the Force was like blunting all his senses at once. Over time it built up a backlog that often lead to severe trauma and invariably caused intense pain.  
  
Qui-Gon dropped the ring of metal to the floor unable to suppress a moue of disgust.  
  
Oban sat still and silent as the key slid into the lock and the collar was removed from his neck. The sensation of relief was overwhelming. His shoulders relaxed and tears began to seep from his eyes. "Oh... oh ... Light ... thank you." His head sagged back against the cushions as he gulped for air, his hands flew his neck and massaged the area that had been circled by the collar. Fine tremors ran through his muscles, his skin gleamed with perspiration and his mind raced outward in an automatic attempt to touch and sense.  
  
Qui-Gon absorbed the outflowing of emotion sending gentle waves of reassurance and letting his hand rest comfortingly on Oban's shoulder. As the emotional storm showed no sign of fading he went to the tiny room that served as a kitchen and brought back a large glass of water. "Here, drink this." Holding it as Oban took long swallows. "Careful, you'll choke."  
  
With an arm around Oban's shoulders Qui-Gon pulled the shaking body to rest against his chest, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back and murmuring soft reassurance as he tried to calm him. Oban's emotions were clear now the collar was gone, as was an astonishing sense of power. He met Qui-Gon's mental touch avidly, soaking up the touch of the Force and reaching eagerly to grasp the comfort being offering him.  
  
Qui-Gon let his mind twine gently about Oban's, radiating comfort and reassurance. Oban met the mental caress with amazement and delight, basking in the sensation before he responded eagerly. He returned the touch with a slightly clumsy enthusiasm that the Jedi found as endearing as it was indicative of his previous isolation.  
  
As he calmed Oban, Qui-Gon carefully showed the youth the rudiments of shielding against revealing private thoughts and emotions. It was obvious to Qui-Gon that the youth had, at some time, received training in manipulating the Force. Although his emotions were spilling forth with an ecstasy of relief, the deeper areas of the boy's mind were closed.  
  
After long minutes Oban began to quieten, the tremors fading and his thoughts taking on a shy, embarrassed tone as he realised the uncontrolled flood of emotion he had radiated. Clumsy but effective shields slid into place and he sat up. He dragged a shaky hand over his eyes making black smudges across his face and looked at the Jedi master gravely. "I don't know what you want of me but whatever it is, I give it willingly." His voice was low and steady and there was a look of utter devotion in his eyes.  
  
Such a dangerous offer and so tempting. Qui-Gon felt a shiver of arousal snake through him. "Oban ..." He paused considering the young man beside him, "You don't owe me anything."  
  
Oban could sense the Jedi meant him no harm though the swirl of emotions was shielded. He put a tentative hand on Qui-Gon's knee. "I was dead until they gave me to you. You give me life."  
  
"I only give you back what is yours..." The pale hand tightened and Qui-Gon took it between both of his own. "How long have you been with the Traders, Oban?"  
  
Slender fingers gripped the Jedi's big hands and Oban hung his head. "I don't know. A long time, maybe forever."  
  
"Do you remember anything before ... your parents, your home?"  
  
Oban shook his head slowly, frowning as he realised how strange this was. More, he suddenly also realised that he had never thought of his childhood, even when the other slaves were trading stories.  
  
Probing carefully Qui-Gon asked. "What is the first thing you remember?"  
  
Oban's fingers tightened. "Warmth ... other children ... "  
  
"Brothers and sisters?"  
  
A shake of the tawny head, "No. Lots of others. We all slept in a big room. It was warm ... safe. The adults were nice ... " His voice trailed to silence.  
  
Qui-Gon lightly brushed the memories that were flitting across the surface of the other man's mind ... rooms and corridors made huge by the perspective of a child ... adult voices that were firm but affectionate ... and a tantalising glimpse of an endless skyline. "Who? The Traders?"  
  
This time Oban's moved more hesitantly. "No ... I don't think so. We had classes ... and games ... and exercises." He stopped and a puzzled expression came into his eyes.  
  
Qui-Gon waited as Oban gazed into nothing, the young man's sense of confusion palpable. When he didn't speak Qui-Gon pressed gently a little deeper into his mind, it was as though Oban was wandering through a maze, searching along blind alleys. Following, the Jedi could feel Oban being distracted, diverted from his purpose. Qui-Gon frowned, it was almost as though a false trail had been laid, Oban was being drawn into winding, hazy byways that dwindled to nothing.  
  
"Oban." There was no response. "*Oban*." Qui-Gon put his hand on Oban's shoulder and shook him gently.  
  
Startled eyes turned up to the Jedi and a fearful expression passed across Oban's face. "Forgive me, Master." All his experience as a slave told him that he needed to abase himself and he began to slide to the floor.  
  
Qui-Gon caught him with a firm hand to his chest and pushed him back into the seat. "There is nothing to forgive, Oban. Tell me, what is your first memory with the Trader clan?"  
  
The frown of concentration appeared again. "I was weak ... I think I'd been sick. They said I had been found wandering in the forest."  
  
"How old were you?"  
  
"I don't know." Oban was puzzled by his lack of memory but that worry was overborne by the growing sense that he was failing his new master in some way.  
  
"Can you say how long ago it was?" Qui-Gon asked gently, monitoring the flow of Oban's superficial memories. Again there was a sly sense of something nudging the boy away from the memory he sought.  
  
Oban shivered. "A long time. Seven ... eight years I think."  
  
The Jedi considered. The lad appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties which meant that he had been captured at around fourteen or younger if this memory was truly his first contact with the traders. Oban was beginning to shiver and a sense of misery was growing. Qui-Gon took his hand and held it between his own letting his long fingers stroke the smaller hand. "Can you remember anything before that?"  
  
Oban's shivers intensified to long shudders that ran along his limbs. He took a deep breath and stared at his hands held between Qui-Gon's larger ones. The Jedi master had glimpses of fighting ... energy bolts and flames ... screams ... a deep sorrow ... a sense of loss ... of guilt. A low moan began in the boy's chest and his fingers tightened till his knuckles were white and the blood was being crushed from Qui-Gon's fingers.  
  
Enough for now Qui-Gon decided. He stood and drew Oban to his feet. "Never mind. Let's get you cleaned up young man. I have transport arranged for first thing tomorrow morning and ... "  
  
Oban wrenched himself from the Jedi's grasp and flung himself to his knees, arms wrapped around the Qui-Gon's legs, cheek against his thigh. "No! Don't leave me, Master." Convinced that he was being rejected, his mind churned with fear and despair and his body tensed as he slid his hands up the back of Qui-Gon's legs and clutched the muscular thighs. Strong fingers dug into the Jedi's skin for an instant then he began to move feverishly, caressing and entreating as he raised his head until his mouth was nuzzling against Qui-Gon's groin begging in the only way he knew. "Take me with you. I am yours ... please, Master. I will do whatever you want. Please ... don't leave me."  
  
The desperation in Oban's voice went some small way to counteract the erotic touch of his fingers and lips but Qui-Gon was all too aware of his body's response. "Oban, no." Once again he drew Oban to his feet. The young man wound his arms around the Jedi and rained frantic kisses on Qui-Gon's throat, nipping softly and begging, slender, agile fingers slithering between the folds of the Jedi's tunics to caress and seduce.  
  
"Shh, it's all right Oban. I intend to take you with me. We are going to my home. To the Temple." As Qui-Gon spoke he was moving to the bathroom. He lowered Oban onto a stool while he found a soft cloth. Qui-Gon sat on his heels cleaning the streaked cosmetics from Oban's face. "Then you can decide what you want to do. Where you want to go."  
  
"I want to go with you." Oban's voice was low but definite.  
  
Of course he did, Oban had been a slave for nearly half his life, what would become of him if he was left to fend for himself. Qui-Gon smiled as he began to run the bath water, "Very well. We can talk on the trip home. You are welcome to stay with me as long as you like." The Jedi lowered his social shields to allow Oban to sense his motives, he planned for Oban to see the Temple healers and hopefully regain his memory and work on reconstructing his life. He ran a gentle hand over Oban's head. "Now then, I want you to take a warm bath and then sleep, it is going to be an early start tomorrow."  
  
Qui-Gon went to rummage through his clothing and returned with an pair of soft training pants. "These will be too big but they are the best I can offer." He took two towels from the cupboard and set them beside the tub. "Take as long as you need. I will be in the other room."  
  
Oban watched as the door closed and then sighed. He stepped into the big bathtub and settled back into the warm water stretching happily. With his head resting against the curved side of the tub he thought about his situation. His new master was a puzzle. Oban could sense that the Jedi was attracted to him but he had made no move to touch him in anything but a comforting manner, indeed he had gently repulsed Oban's attempts to seduce him. But Oban could also sense that his master was telling the truth ... that he would take him with him and overwhelmingly he felt safety and reassurance from the big man.  
  
Oban smiled as he began to lather the soap over his body. The Jedi was the tallest man he had ever seen, taller than the members of the Trade Clans, even taller than the tallest Gatharn. Oban let himself see his master as a man for the first time, he was much older but he was lean and muscular ... obviously a warrior Oban decided ... and yet his voice was deep and soft and his hands gentle. All in all things were looking decidedly better than they had this morning Oban decided.  
  
While the ex-slave bathed Qui-Gon pulled a blanket and pillow from the bed and laid them on the couch. He had often, of necessity, shared a bed with fellow Jedi ... not to mention lovers of various sexes ... but the idea of sleeping beside the lithe body of this youth, this *pleasure slave* ... *his* pleasure slave, set off warning bells even as it sent the blood directly to his groin. Qui-Gon had accepted this gift to save the boy from sexual servitude not to use him himself.  
  
Qui-Gon poured myself a cup of cha. Oban had a strong Force ability and the Jedi was certain that he had been trained at some time. It was unlikely that the Trade Clan would bother, especially since they had collared him with an inhibitor. So the training must have been before his capture. Qui-Gon considered calling the Council but decided against it until he was back on the Temple transport.  
  
Was it possible that Oban's early memories were of being in the Temple? Other peoples understood Force use and many learned to manipulate it. Still it was unlikely that a child as strong as this young man would have been missed by the Jedi unless he came from one of the most remote systems. And although his ability was limited there was the definite mark of a talented teacher on 3 his mind.  
  
A number of Jedi had gone missing in the past ten years. Temple work was always dangerous and losses were inevitable. Unless it was clearly established that the missing Jedi were dead the Temple spared no time or effort to find their own. There were perhaps five cases in which no absolute proof of death had been found in the past decade. Qui-Gon would need to check the Temple records to be sure. It was also possible students of other disciplines had gone missing, that would also have to be checked, but somehow he had the impression that Oban was a padawan.  
  
There had only been two master and apprentice pairs that had been lost in recent years as far as Qui-Gon could recall. Such an event was particularly painful to the Jedi so he doubted that he had missed any. He was recalling the two tragedies when the bathroom door opened and he looked up to see Oban standing just inside the room.  
  
The Jedi's old training pants were rolled up at Oban's ankles and he clutched them at the waist to keep them from sliding down his hips. Qui-Gon smiled to himself, he could fix that. He rummaged through his clothing again and presented Oban with a cord. "Here, try tying that around the waist."  
  
Hitching the fabric higher Oban wound the cord around his middle and smiled shyly. "Thank you, Master."  
  
With his face free of cosmetics Oban looked both older and more innocent and could have been any one of dozens of padawans at the Temple. "Would you like something to eat or drink before you sleep?"  
  
Oban shook his head. "No, thank you Master."  
  
"Very well. There is only one bed but I think you will be comfortable here."  
  
Big eyes gazed at Qui-Gon, puzzled and worried. Oban started to say something then dropped his eyes. He was radiating anxiety and rejection.  
  
"What is it, Oban?"  
  
"You don't want me, Master?" Oban's voice was hushed and hesitant.  
  
A shiver of arousal ran through Qui-Gon at the soft words. "Oban ... I accepted the trader's offer so that you would no longer be a slave. You don't have to please me."  
  
"And if I want to?" The youth looked into Qui-Gon's eyes.  
  
"I'm flattered, but I don't think it is a good idea." Qui-Gon said firmly. Oban's sense of anxiety and failure was palpable. Qui-Gon tried to explain. "You are free ... your own person ... and the Force is strong in you. We are going to Coruscant. You will be able to learn how to use that. There is a life ahead of you, a future. *You* can determine what you want to do with your life. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want. No one owns you, you belong to yourself."  
  
Oban was standing beside the table his body drooping, his eyes fearful. He nodded uncertainly. "I think I understand but ... "  
  
"But?"  
  
"I don't know how." He sounded lost.  
  
"You'll learn. It will take us ten days to return to Coruscant and we can use that time. I will help you."  
  
"Will you teach me how to use the Force?" There was a wistful note in his voice.  
  
Qui-Gon hadn't taken a padawan since the disaster of Xanatos but he nodded. "Certainly. I will teach you what I can."  
  
"But you don't want me to sleep with you?"  
  
"Oban ... "  
  
The soft voice rushed on, "Not sex if you don't want to ... but please let me be with you." He was imploring Qui-Gon while steeling himself to be rebuffed.  
  
The Jedi master sighed, "Very well, bring the pillow with you." How could he resist that voice, those eyes. Qui-Gon only hoped that his shields would hold as he slept and that his body wouldn't betray him.  
  
Heading for the bathroom Qui-Gon washed and changed into his sleeping pants. When he emerged the lights had been turned off in the sitting room and a soft glow led him to the bedroom. Even prepared for the sight of the golden body lying in his bed it took Qui-Gon's breath away and made him painfully hard. Oban was lying on his back at the far edge of the bed. He was laid out as though for funerary rites. Qui-Gon sat on the side of the bed taking a moment to centre himself and quiet his body. He brushed a hand over Oban's cheek. "Relax Oban ... sleep."  
  
He put Force into the suggestion, nudging Oban towards sleep and wrapping him in comfort. Oban's eyelids began to droop, he shifted to his side, curled one arm under the pillow, pulled it close and slept.  
  


* * *

  
  
At dawn Qui-Gon woke to find Oban pressed close against his side one hand heavy on his chest. The feeling of a warm body brought back bitter sweet memories of lovers past and of his two padawans. Some of the few pleasant memories Qui-Gon had of Xanatos were of watching him sleep when they had shared a bed on missions. For a moment he savoured the sensation then he slid out of bed and quickly dressed before gently shaking Oban's shoulder. "Time to get up."  
  
Stretching languidly Oban rolled on to his back and blinked as he stared up at his new master. As the sleep left his mind and memory returned, a wide happy smile lit his face. "Good morning, Master."  
  
"Good morning, Oban. There is breakfast in the other room. Join me when you are ready." The radiant, open smile and sensual stretch unnerved Qui-Gon and he fled the bedroom.  
  
The Jedi master had made his formal farewells the previous day so after a light meal he gathered his pack and wrapped Oban in his second cloak. A palace driver took them through the empty city and within the hour they were settling in as the pilot lifted the ship from the surface.  
  
As soon as they were out of orbit Qui-Gon sent Oban to wait in the cabin and contacted the Council. The holo image flickered and Mace Windu greeted his friend. "Well done, Qui-Gon. The Gatharn ruler contacted us last night, they are very pleased with the treaty."  
  
Qui-Gon inclined his head, "To be honest, Mace there wasn't much for me to do. I just tidied up the loose ends." He grinned at the councillor. "Oh and by the way Mace, I've picked up another pathetic life form ... a young man."  
  
"What! Who?"  
  
"He's called Oban. He has a powerful Force signature and some training but he has no memory of his life before he was enslaved by the Trader clan. I have been wondering if he is a missing padawan."  
  
"A padawan!?" Mace's reaction was as astonished as Qui-Gon had hoped.  
  
"He was given to me ... a gift from one of the Trader lords."  
  
"A *gift*? Qui-Gon ... " the councillor growled.  
  
Qui-Gon answered soothingly. "He was one of a group of slaves the trader clan brought to the celebration last night. They offered him to me. I sensed his Force signature as soon as he entered the room ... they had him collared with a Force dampener. I could hardly leave him there."  
  
Mace was looking at someone Qui-Gon couldn't see. He nodded, then, "Can you send a blood sample?"  
  
Having anticipated this Qui-Gon pushed the slide into the reader. "All prepared. I intend to talk with him and perhaps meditate ... see if he can remember anything of his life before he was captured." He smiled a little at Mace's frown. "If you identify him perhaps you can send me his records."  
  
The councillor nodded. "You will have them shortly. We look forward to your return Qui-Gon ... and to meeting your protege." He smiled and the holo blinked off.  
  
The trip to Coruscant would take ten standard days, plenty of time to get to know the young man and to gain some sense of his abilities in the Force. Qui-Gon joined Oban in the cabin he had occupied on the outward journey. As he shed his cloak the ex-slave hurried to take it and fold it carefully, setting in neatly over the arm of a chair.  
  
"Master?" He was standing waiting, wearing only the slinky gold trousers he had worn to the banquet, trousers that hung low on his hips and moulded to his thighs and calves.  
  
Keenly aware of the sensual image standing before him Qui-Gon kept his eyes firmly fixed on Oban's face as he sat, "Sit, please. I want to talk to you."  
  
Oban sank gracefully into the chair opposite wondering what this most unusual master would require of him. "Yes, Master."  
  
"Oban, how much do you know of the Force?"  
  
The question surprised him. A slight frown drew his brows together and Oban said slowly, "I don't know ... that it surrounds us ... that it is in everything and everyone." He fell silent looking questioningly at the Jedi.  
  
"Do you understand your ability."  
  
One shoulder hitched and Oban shook his head. "The other slaves said I was a freak ... that the traders made me wear that collar because I was dangerous." He shivered and ran his fingers around his neck unused to the sensations that were returning to the numbed flesh.  
  
"You are not a freak, Oban." Qui-Gon replied quickly. "You are Force sensitive. What do you know about the Jedi?"  
  
At the word Oban tilted his head a little and his eyes narrowed. "The Jedi? You are a Jedi aren't you, Master?"  
  
"Yes, Oban, I am, and I think you might have been once too."  
  
"Me?!" The blue/grey eyes widened in astonishment.  
  
"Yes." Qui-Gon reached gently into his mind. "Feel that?"  
  
Oban nodded. "That is me reaching for you with the Force and you instinctively reach back." Qui-Gon considered for a moment. "Do you know how to meditate?"  
  
"I don't think so, Master." Oban was confused by the change of topic.  
  
"Then it's time you learned." Qui-Gon moved to kneel on the mat and gestured Oban to join him. The young man sank to the floor and settled easily into a position that mirrored Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon began with the exercises that the youngsters in the Temple creche learned. By the time they stopped for noon meal the Jedi was more certain than ever that Oban had been trained by the Temple, he had picked up the exercises quickly and fallen easily into a meditative trance.  
  
After the meal the comm unit was flashing so Qui-Gon sent Oban to the makeshift exercise room that had been set up in a disused hold while he read the information the Temple had sent.  
  
The blood sample had confirmed his suspicion. Oban was one of their own, a padawan called Obi-Wan Kenobi. A padawan who had been lost, presumed dead, at the age of thirteen, almost nine standard years ago. Obi-Wan had been on a mission with his Master, Del Temlana, when the transport they were returning to Coruscant on had been boarded by pirates. The remains of the ship was found days later drifting in space with seven cold and starving survivors huddled in the only section that still had oxygen.  
  
Qui-Gon halted the data flow and thought back over his memories of Del Temlana. They were contemporaries and he had seen a lot of her around the Temple while he was an initiate though rather less when they were both padawans. She had been a short stocky woman, with a fierce fighting style and a gift for languages and mathematics.  
  
Try as he might Qui-Gon's only memories of her padawan were of a silent, graceful boy who padded at her heels. He did however recall the shock that went through the Jedi at their deaths. No bodies were ever recovered and, as there was no hint of their presence in the Force, it was assumed that both had been jettisoned into space. Qui-Gon had been on Coruscant when the memorial was held. Both master and padawan were popular with their peers and it was a large gathering that farewelled the pair. Looking back what he most remembered was the sad, worried expression in Master Yoda's eyes as they met Qui-Gon's.  
  
The data told him that Obi-Wan had been given to the Jedi at the age of three and had been a studious and talented initiate before being accepted as padawan. He had been eleven when Master Temlana accepted him, a bright, gifted boy who had attracted Yoda's interest. Among the usual reports by teachers and creche masters were several from Master Yoda himself, including one that recommended knights and masters considered suitable to take Obi-Wan as their apprentice... at the top of the very short list was Qui-Gon's own name.  
  
Qui-Gon remembered his old Master badgering him to look at the initiates ... to take a new padawan and let the trauma of Xanatos fade ... but he didn't recall him mentioning anyone specifically. Qui-Gon had avoided seeing the youngsters as he refused to take another padawan, but now he wondered whether Master Temlana would still be alive if he had followed Master Yoda's advice. Of course the possibility was that Qui-Gon himself would be dead in her place ... but then it was also possible that they both would have survived and that a young padawan would not have been subjected to nine years of servitude.  
  
Qui-Gon sighed, there was no point thinking along those lines. Life happened as the Force directed. And if he had thwarted the Force's plans for himself and this young man it now appeared the Force was giving them a second chance.  
  
Along with the information on the loss of Master Temlana and her padawan was a message from Master Schal, a senior Healer, specialising in rehabilitation and trauma cases. Schal had been the healer who had worked with Qui-Gon after Xanatos turned. For weeks he spent hours each day with the healer and it was almost two years before he stopped talking to Schal regularly. Schal's message now was typically brief and to the point.  
  
**Qui-Gon, I hear that you have recovered one of our lost padawans. Mace tells me he has lost his early memories. Don't try to force him to remember ... let it come naturally. I've sent some general background information on the Jedi and the Temple. Let him read ... answer his questions ... *don't* push. He may never regain his memories, it depends why he lost them, and I can't tell until I've seen him. Keep him healthy ... give him general information ... see if it triggers anything ... I want to see you both as soon as you land.**  
  
And with that the transmission ended.  
  
Qui-Gon made himself a mug of spiced cha and wondered how the Council would handle this returning Jedi. There had been padawans who had been captured before but none so young and none for so long. Oban was obviously strong in the Force and had survived his years of captivity emerging surprisingly sane, but who knew what damage had been done emotionally and psychologically. And then there were the nine years of training and education he had lost.  
  
Draining his mug Qui-Gon changed into training gear and went to join Oban ... Obi-Wan ... in the hold. Determined to see that the youth had the best chance of resuming his life and his training Qui-Gon intended to see where Oban's skills and abilities lay.  
  
As soon as he entered the hold it was clear that Oban's physical abilities were considerable. Qui-Gon stood quietly beside the door, watching and admiring as the young man completed an exercise routine that was both strenuous and fluent. Not surprisingly for a pleasure slave the youth's body was in excellent shape both slender and graceful, more unexpected however was the strength and definition of his muscles. The teacher in Qui-Gon was noting the strengths and flaws, looking for areas that needed improvement to bring the youth back to padawan standard. He was pleased to note that there was not as much work required as he had feared.  
  
Oban came to a halt, arms outstretched and head thrown back, his chest rising and falling lightly, his breathing hardly elevated. There was an expression of calm joy on his face as he remained poised for a long moment before he shook his hair away from his face and looked around for his towel.  
  
When he saw Qui-Gon Oban, felt a thrill go through him. His expression became slightly guarded but he smiled, and murmured "Master" as he picked up the towel to wiped his face and neck, hiding his face as he tried to quiet the reaction of his body to the unexpected sight of the older man.  
  
"I thought I would join you Obi ... Oban." Qui-Gon stammered over Oban's real name.  
  
"*Obi*. No one has ever given me a pet name before."  
  
Oban's smile deepened and became a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Master, I like it."  
  
"Good." Qui-Gon let it go at that. "Do you know anything about self defence?"  
  
Oban shook his head.  
  
*Of course not ... who teaches a slave to defend himself.*  
  
"Then that's something else you need to learn." Qui-Gon itched to put a lightsabre in Oban's hand but for the moment he settled for teaching him the hand-to-hand combat that the initiates began with. Not surprisingly Oban picked it up easily and after an hour or so Qui-Gon was sure that by the time they reached Coruscant he could have Oban's physical skills at more or less the standard they were when he went missing. It was only when the Jedi asked the ex-slave to take the offensive that he sensed a problem.  
  
After another hour it was apparent that Oban had some deep seated inhibitions against attacking ... or perhaps just against attacking his master. Qui-Gon also sensed that Oban was becoming frustrated with his inability to please him and he drew back. "That's enough for today, Oban." He placed a hand on the youth's shoulder. "We will find a way through this ... don't fret over it."  
  
Oban nodded glumly. He was unhappy that he could not do what his master wanted but he was also confused that the Jedi wanted him to attack him. He looked up into the clear, blue eyes and saw approval and confidence. "I'll try not to, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Good. But I wish you would use my name. Qui-Gon... call me Qui-Gon."  
  
Oban smiled shyly and shook his head before ducking out of the hold and hurrying back to the Cabin. When he reached it Oban shed his clothes and dived into the bathroom, heading for the shower cubicle. With the hot water streaming over his body he allowed himself to think of the image his master had presented during the training session. The Jedi was a big man but he moved with astonishing grace and speed, his long hair lifting about his shoulders as he spun, his huge hands hard on Oban's body as he corrected Oban's movements or demonstrated a manoeuvre.  
  
Oban tipped his head back and let the water flow over his face as he allowed his body to react to the images. He had been a pleasure slave for as long as he could remember and that meant his body had been used by more people than he could begin to count, in more ways than he cared to think about. Never in all those years had he wished to couple with another being, even when they were kind and gentle he found the act hateful. Yet here he was, rigid with need for the stranger who had become his master.  
  
Shaking the water out of his eyes Oban switched off the hot water and allowed the icy flow to focus on his genitals. After several shivering minutes he stepped out of the cubicle and wrapped a large fleecy towel about his waist, picking up a smaller one to dry his hair. Qui-Gon had gathered up his towel and followed more slowly.  
  
The lad was intriguing. Qui-Gon had enjoyed training until Xanatos had shattered his confidence not only in his ability to teach but also in his judgement. But sparing with Oban and meditating with him earlier had brought a soul-deep sense of fulfilment and peace. And then there was the attraction he felt for the young man.  
  
Sighing, Qui-Gon stood for a moment outside his cabin to calm his mind and body. No matter how much he desired Oban he could not act on that desire until the youth regained his memory, or at least developed a sense of self beyond that of pleasure slave. Until then he could never be sure that Oban hadn't acted from gratitude or fear. The situation was complicated by the fact that the Jedi could sense that Oban shared his desire. Taking a deep breath Qui-Gon opened the door to be confronted by the sight of Oban wrapped in a large white towel.  
  
The two men stood frozen, staring at each other for a moment until Qui-Gon said vaguely, "Ah, you've finished with the shower."  
  
He noticed the small galley and asked, "Oban, can you use the catering unit?" The young man nodded and Qui-Gon smiled. "Good, then I'll shower while you fix something for dinner." And he disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
After the meal Qui-Gon showed Oban how to use the personal reader. He handed Oban the data wafer with background on the Jedi, made sure he was comfortable with the unit and settled into his evening meditations.  
  
Oban was fascinated by the information he read. The history of the Jedi touched a chord in the young man and it was hours later when he came to end of the historical section that realised he was stiff form sitting still so long. He paused the reader and stretched his neck and shoulders. Deciding he needed a drink before continuing Oban padded to the galley and poured a glass of water. As he returned to the sofa his eyes fell on his master.  
  
The Jedi was still meditating. He was kneeling, his long form outlined against the dark mat. The older man's big hands rested on his thighs, body relaxed, head canted slightly forward, eyes closed. Oban took in the high forehead, crooked nose and soft hair glowing bronze in the muted light. He moved back to the sofa and picked up the reader his eyes remaining on the Jedi. Qui-Gon was barefoot, dressed in soft trousers and a loose tunic. The soft fabric clung to the older man's body, defining each curve and accentuating the long line of his muscles.  
  
Oban found his eyes lingering over the broad capable hands and feet then sliding up long legs to settle on the shadowed bulge of the Jedi's groin. Suddenly desire raged through him. In the unfamiliar situation of desiring a man who didn't seem to want him, Oban closed his eyes and tried to still his body. His fingers twitched and he considered returning to the cold shower.  
  
When Qui-Gon emerged from his trance it was to the awareness of desolation. Rising from the mat he looked across at Oban and saw the younger man curled into a ball on the sofa, eyes tight closed and rocking slightly. "Oban?" No response. "Obi ... what is it? What's wrong?" He sat beside the youth and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
The hand sent a jolt through Oban. The fire in his groin flared and his body was wracked by shudders. With a titanic effort Oban sat up. "I'm sorry, Master." His eyes were directed down at his clenched hands.  
  
"It's all right, Obi. You don't have to apologise for being unhappy." Qui-Gon watched the young man, trying to read the cause behind the distress. "What it is? Tell me?"  
  
After a moment a long shuddering sigh went through Oban and he slid to the floor at Qui-Gon's feet. "I need ... " his voice faded.  
  
Dismayed at Oban's submissive pose Qui-Gon ran his hand through Oban's bright hair and down to his chin, tilting the handsome face up to meet his eyes. "What do you need?"  
  
Oban flushed and lowered his eyes. "You, Master." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I need you." He moved his hand away from his groin to show the very obvious erection he had been hiding.  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "Oban ... "  
  
"I know you don't want me, Master, not like that." Oban's elegant voice was hesitant.  
  
"It's not that I don't ... when we have reached Coruscant and you know what you want to do with your life ... " He took in the misery in Oban's eyes and mind and said gently, "Oban, I need to speak to the captain, you should use the time to pleasure yourself."  
  
As Qui-Gon stood a flood of despair leaked from Oban and the young man whispered something. He waited for Oban to repeat himself then knelt beside him projecting reassurance, "What is it? Tell me, Obi?"  
  
Blushing and hanging his head Oban whispered again, "I can't." He saw the question on Qui-Gon's face. "I can't ... "  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Oban's blush deepened. "I just can't. I'm not allowed."  
  
Qui-Gon put his arm around the youth's drooping shoulders and felt Oban allow his shields to thin. A flood of images filled the Jedi's mind ... half-formed images of being beaten or denied meals or company when he displeased his masters, and of being praised and rewarded when he did please them. He had been trained like an animal. Qui-Gon pushed his anger aside to be dealt with later and gathered Oban in an embrace. "I can help you with that."  
  
Settling on the sofa again Qui-Gon sat with Oban on his lap.  
  
"Oban, I want you to forget what the Traders taught you." He placed a finger on the other man's lips. "I know ... it won't be easy ... and it will take time." He placed one arm firmly around Oban's waist his hand splayed across the young man's belly, and with his other took hold of Oban's hand. "You can do this if you want ... I want you to do this."  
  
Lacing his fingers through Oban's he moved their hands to Oban's lap to curl around the younger man's erection. Oban's fingers stilled, then they tightened and he shivered as his head fell back against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The Jedi simply held Oban's hand for a moment then he moved to untie the laces at the Oban's waist.  
  
Oban's fingers quivered as he felt his master's hand move. The quiver deepened as Qui-Gon carefully opened the fabric and placed their hands on bare skin. Pushing aside his reservations Qui-Gon moved Oban until the younger man was resting back across his chest his legs sprawled open. He closed his eyes and curved his fingers around Oban's again moving them firmly until the youth took up the rhythm himself. Once he was sure Oban was lost in the sensation, Qui-Gon removed his hand and laid it on the youth's thigh, moving his fingers in lazy circles.  
  
Qui-Gon opened his eyes and drank in the sight of Oban in his arms, bright eyes staring hazily up into his, lips parted ... breath coming in husky gasps. Qui-Gon let his eyes drift closed again and revelled in the sensation as he continued rubbing gentle caresses on thigh and belly. He was drifting as Oban spiralled towards orgasm, riding the waves of bliss that streamed from the young man's mind and enjoying the sheer physical pleasure of having the strong, young body in his arms.  
  
As he basked in the sensations running through him Oban twisted in Qui-Gon's arm until he was half facing the Jedi and could undulate against the muscular thigh. Qui-Gon let his hand slide until it was pressed against Oban's lower back and bent his head forward to bury his face in Oban's hair. Taking a firm grip on his emotions and breathing slowly to settle his body, Qui-Gon turned his thoughts to Healer Schal's advice so that he could ignore Oban writhing against him.  
  
With a wry mental smile Qui-Gon realised it wasn't working. His mind was perfectly capable of thinking serious thoughts while his body was happily responding to the sensual assault that was Oban. Just as he was preparing to make another effort at controlling his libido he was over whelmed by the twin assault of a warm, firm hand pressing and kneading, and a hot mouth fastening onto his neck.  
  
Murmuring, Qui-Gon increased the pressure of his hand on Oban's back. He realised with relief that Oban was on the brink of orgasm and was steeling himself to ride out the storm when sly fingers insinuated themselves into his trousers and fastened themselves around his cock. Before the Jedi could do more than gasp Oban was shuddering and gasping, his hand clutching as he tipped over the edge and climaxed. Even as Oban was trembling in the wake of orgasm his fingers began to slide and tease the Jedi's hard flesh, a firm grasp circling the base as a second hand added teasing fingers that slid over the crown and along the underside.  
  
Qui-Gon moaned as his world spun on it's axis, luxurious sensation swamping him. The ecstasy of release slammed through the Jedi as Oban snuggled against him, nuzzling his face into the curve of Qui-Gon's throat.  
  
When he regained his senses it was to find Oban was lying curled around him unconscious. Gathering himself he stood and fetched a cloth from the bathroom. After carefully cleaning Oban, Qui-Gon picked him up and laid the young man on the bed, stripping off the soiled pants and covering him with the bed-clothes.  
  
Qui-Gon stood looking down at the sleeping youth before going to clean himself and change into his sleeping pants. After a brief hesitation he went to the second cabin. He stripped the bedding from the cot, carried it to his own cabin and put it on the floor at the foot of his bed. Turning off the lights he lay on the bedding on the floor and slept.  
  


* * *

  
  
Oban woke to a sense of well-being and comfort. He opened his eyes and was momentarily disoriented to see the pale grey of the bulkheads and feel the almost subliminal hum of the hyperdrive. He was on a starship ... the Jedi's starship ... the Jedi who was his new master.  
  
That realisation calmed his fears. No more beatings, no more being sent to service trade opponents, or politicians or thugs. His master was a Jedi ... a tall, gracious, *kind* Jedi. Oban smiled as he rolled onto his back and let the tension leave his body.  
  
As he stretched he realised he was alone in the bed. Oban had rather vague memories of how the previous night had ended but he *did* recall the wonderful sensation of big, gentle hands and the sweet flood of orgasm as he was held warm and safe against a body that demanded nothing and caused no pain. Smiling, he sat and looked around. In the dim light of hyperspace it was impossible to tell day from night, but there were only minimal lights on in the suite.  
  
So where was his master? Oban sat on the edge of the bed expecting the Jedi to appear from the galley or the bathroom. When no one appeared he swung his feet to the ground and stood, taking two steps before he saw the pile of bedding on the floor and the fan of rich brown hair that spilled over the pillow.  
  
His master had chosen to sleep on the floor rather than share a bed with him. Oban stood frozen as he felt some of the warm happiness leach away. He wanted nothing more than to lie pressed against the older man's lean strength, wanted it more than he wanted the glory of orgasm, but his master preferred to sleep on a thin mattress on the floor.  
  
Oban felt tears prickle his eyes and an ache start in his throat. The Jedi had helped him ... offered pleasure ... release ... though he desired nothing from his slave, though he could not bear to even sleep in the same bed. Oban felt his heart contract. Never had he met a non-slave who cared for anything but his own desires. Kneeling beside the bed, Oban followed the lessons his master had given him on meditation and sank into a trance, letting his mind dwell on the kindness of this man and the beauty.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon awoke to the sense that something was wrong.  
  
Remembering the previous night he reached out to sense Oban's emotions and was horrified to feel the sorrow and regret that the young man was emanating. He raised himself on his elbow and turned the lighting up to a soft glow and saw Oban kneeling on the floor beside him.  
  
For an appalled moment he thought the ex-slave was abasing himself but a careful sweep over Oban's surface thoughts showed that he was meditating.  
  
To the naked eye Oban looked to be poised and relaxed but to anyone with the ability to read the Force, the ex-slave was clearly confused and upset. Taking a mirror position before other man, Qui-Gon let his thoughts still and reached out to monitor Oban's meditations. Delving only deep enough to read the surface thoughts and emotions he began to untangle the confused, and often contradictory streams. Overall Oban seemed to be quite calm, but it was the calm of despair, of resignation.  
  
In fact the young man was trying to subdue the hopeful thoughts he had been harbouring, thoughts of being with Qui-Gon, of making himself a place in the Jedi's life, of having his desire returned.  
  
He was determining to be the perfect slave, to make himself so useful, and so unobtrusive, that his master would allow him to remain at his side. A sad smile twisted Qui-Gon's lips as he realised that Oban was reminding himself that he was a slave who had been accepted by his new master out of pity.  
  
Sliding skillfully into Oban's meditations Qui-Gon met self-deprecating thoughts and confronted them with his admiration of how Oban had survived and grown into a sane, healthy, *attractive* man.  
  
He flooded the young man's mind with affection and acceptance, then he slid quietly out and sat back watching the handsome face before him. His eyes moved down to the rhythmical rise and fall of the golden chest then stopped short as he realised that Oban was utterly, gloriously naked.  
  
Standing hurriedly Qui-Gon retrieved the now clean training pants from the laundry unit and tossed them on the bed before heading for the galley to prepare first meal and to ponder the extent to which Oban's self-esteem was dictated by the response of his master. It made sense for a slave to try to please his master ... it was only self-preservation ... but with Oban it was more than that. The young man seemed to have completely identified himself with Qui-Gon and to be judging everything against the Jedi's reaction.  
  
Oban sensed the shift when his master's thoughts joined his own. He felt warmth flow through him as the Jedi firmly rebuffed the tormenting notions of inadequacy. Emerging from the trance Oban sat on his heels as he tried to reconcile Qui-Gon's acceptance and his own experience in life.  
  
Faint sounds of movement in the next room indicated where the other man was. The soft chink of crockery suggested that a meal was being prepared. Oban smiled, in the two days he had been with the Jedi meals seemed to have played a major part in their interaction. He found that odd since in the harem food had been provided from the palace kitchens and was eaten quickly, a source of sustenance not of pleasure.  
  
The Jedi's deep voice called from the other room. "Obi. Come and eat before it gets cold."  
  
Oban stood and was surprised to realise that he was naked. Casting his gaze around the sleeping space he saw the training pants and slid into them. He stopped in front of the mirror to run a brush through his hair. He stared at his pale skin wishing he had his cosmetics with him then he shrugged with a slaves sense of fatalism and joined Qui-Gon in the main room of the cabin.  
  
"Ah, there you are, young man." Qui-Gon gestured him to the table. "Sit. Eat. What would you like to drink? There's water or juice, or if you prefer something hot there is cha or caf."  
  
Unsettled by having his master serve him Oban sat, his eyes lowered and murmured. "Caf please."  
  
"Sweet?"  
  
He nodded, "Yes please, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon placed a large mug before Oban and another on the far side of the table where he sat and began to pile hotcakes onto his plate.  
  
The two men ate in silence for a time before Oban took his courage in his hands. "I'm sorry, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon looked at the young man over the rim of his mug.  
  
"Why are you apologising, Obi? What do you think you've done wrong?"  
  
Holding his mug in front of him like a shield Oban said, "I made you do something you didn't want to do. I'm sorry."  
  
His master was watching him with those kind, understanding eyes... it made Oban want to fall at his feet... or into his arms.  
  
"Oban, you didn't *make* me do anything. You were in pain. I chose to help you."  
  
"But you didn't want to touch me." Oban's eyes fell to his plate. "And I ... I ... " he couldn't say the words. "When you hadn't given me permission."  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers along the length of his nose. "Oban ... Obi ... we need to talk about this. It's not that I don't want to touch you. But ... " Now it was the Jedi's turn to have trouble finding words.  
  
"Jedi aren't allowed?" Oban suggested.  
  
"Well, no. I mean, we are allowed but ... there are some situations where ... " Qui-Gon poured himself more caf. "This is complicated, Obi. Jedi aren't allowed to accept gifts. We do our work for the good of the Republic, and at the will of the Force. Our work would be compromised if people thought they could influence us through gifts." He smiled at the puzzled look on Oban's face. "I accepted you because it meant I could free you from slavery and because I recognised a fellow Force-sensitive."  
  
"But you don't really want me?"  
  
"Obi, what I want is not the issue here. If I return to Coruscant with a gorgeous pleasure slave, who just happens to be Force-sensitive, possibly a lost Jedi apprentice... and it is seen that I am having sex with you ... " Qui-Gon smiled wryly. "Well, my motives for freeing you would be suspect and my suitability for continuing to help you called into question. To be honest I'd question it myself if I was in the Council's position."  
  
The puzzled look deepened to a frown. "Why?"  
  
"Because you are vulnerable and I am in a position of power over you. Because the only life you know is that of a slave." The Jedi held the young man's eyes. "Obi, you are a strong, graceful, overwhelmingly attractive young man who is probably also very intelligent and talented in ways you cannot begin to imagine at the moment, but all you know is how to be a pleasure slave. You have been trained to please your master with no thought of your own desires."  
  
Oban said softly, "I desire you, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "I know you do but ... well, you have been conditioned to respond to your master."  
  
"No!" Oban was indignant. "I desire *you*, Master. I have never desired anyone before. Never!" His voice was vehement and his eyes demanded that Qui-Gon believe him.  
  
Qui-Gon was saddened by the image of this man forced into a life of affectionless sex when little more than a child. His voice was gentle. "I am flattered ... honoured that you feel that way. And I also desire you." He held up a hand as Oban surged from his seat." But if we are to have any sort of relationship ... be it friendship, or teacher and student ... or even lovers we must be circumspect now."  
  
"But there is no one to see us, Master!" Oban said reasonably.  
  
"We will see ... and remember. Obi, there is a huge part of your life that you can't remember. I hope that you *will* remember it but you don't know how you will feel when that part of you returns. That part of you was never a pleasure slave. I believe that you were trained in the use of the Force. I think you may have been a trainee Jedi ... a padawan." Qui-Gon poured all his belief and sincerity into his words. "I want to be a part of your life as a free individual, *not* just another man who used you."  
  
The intensity of his master's voice and the honesty in his eyes held Oban. He found the concept of freedom incomprehensible and frightening but the idea that he might be able to learn to use the Force intrigued him. A thrill ran through him when his master said he might have been a Jedi himself, the words seemed to pluck at something buried deep within. "What is a padawan?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, pleased that the word peaked the lad's interest. "A padawan is a young Jedi who is apprenticed to senior Jedi ... a knight or a master. They work together ... the master training the padawan physically and mentally, both while they are in Temple and also away on missions. The master hands on his knowledge and experience. A padawan also has lessons with other teachers in the Temple. It takes many years but eventually a padawan becomes a knight."  
  
There was a far away look in Oban's eyes, then he smiled. "It sounds like hard work."  
  
Qui-Gon returned his smile, "It is, Obi. But it is also satisfying, watching a youngster grow into his or her potential and take their place in the order."  
  
"Do you have a padawan, Master?" There was a wistful note in his voice.  
  
"Not at present. I have had two in the past."  
  
The Jedi started to gather the plates from the table but Oban leapt to his feet and took them from him. "I should do that, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded and watched as the young man bustled between the table and the galley. He doubted that clearing table had been one of Oban's duties as a pleasure slave and he was sure no Jedi had ever had such an exotic helper, it was however usual for a padawan to undertake day to day chores. The Jedi smiled, "When you have finished, Obi, I will begin to teach you how to focus the Force if that would please you."  
  
Throwing a startled glance at his master Oban nodded, "If it would please *you*, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. Breaking the habits of slavery was going to take time. As he tied his hair back he reflected that it was unrealistic to expect that two days in his company would overcome the conditioning of nine years. He wondered what state his much vaunted serenity would be in after nine more days alone with this strangely innocent siren.  
  
They spent the morning in meditation and mental exercises and the afternoon in physical exercises. Before ending for the day Qui-Gon sent Oban to stand by the wall and instructed him to watch while he ran through the first kata. He did it first at full speed then again at quarter and half speed coming to rest facing the young man. "Do you think you could do that?"  
  
There was a fascinated gleam in the young man's eyes. "I ... I don't know."  
  
"Stand in front of me. Now ... we will take it slowly ... do what I do. Just copy ... don't think."  
  
After a hesitant start Oban was mirroring Qui-Gon's moves with a fluid grace that had the Jedi nodding with approval. "Well done, Obi. Now let's do it faster." They repeated the moves at half speed, then at full speed. Qui-Gon felt the Force twine around them, guiding and supporting. "That was excellent, Oban."  
  
The young man's aura was fairly singing with pleasure and accomplishment. "It felt wonderful, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and patted Oban's shoulder. "Just wait, it gets better."  
  


* * *

  
  
After dinner Qui-Gon prepared to meditate and set Oban to reading a basic history of the Republic. The Jedi started his meditation with standard breathing and centering exercises then allowed his thoughts to focus on Oban. Training the young man felt right. Qui-Gon could feel the Force bringing them together. The problem was how to handle Oban's transition from slavery to freedom.  
  
Oban was patently glad to be with Qui-Gon rather than still with the Trader Clan but his behaviour continued to follow the pattern of a pleasure slave. Unsurprising perhaps as he had no other model to follow other that of the Traders themselves. Qui-Gon conceded that the lad had been willing and obedient, he had adjusted quickly to the routine he had been set but it disturbed the Jedi to sense his submissiveness and the simmering undercurrent of sexual arousal.  
  
Bringing himself out of his trance but remaining kneeling, Qui-Gon considered the journey to Coruscant. He smiled to himself, imagining the scene if he arrived at the Temple with Oban dressed in the clinging golden pants, naked to the waist and wearing the cosmetics he had worn to the banquet. The Council would probably banish him to the Outer Rim... once it had got over its apoplexy of envy. Qui-Gon was not sure that Oban would understand the reasons he was reluctant to have sex with him even if he could explain it properly. In Oban's reality he had spent all his life as a pleasure slave.  
  
To be undesired was to be useless, and a useless slave was either relegated to more onerous duties or sold. He realised that Oban was adapting his behaviour to what he thought his master required in an effort to be not to be rejected.  
  
Well, he couldn't expect Oban to change his whole behaviour and way of thinking in just a few days, but Qui-Gon was nothing of not patient. The issue that was more pressing was Oban's inability to control his body's responses or relieve them himself. Qui-Gon was caught on the horns of a dilemma... he could not stand by and let the lad suffer yet he felt that any sexual contact between them was inappropriate.  
  
He wondered whether it would be possible to use a variation of Force healing to enter Oban's mind and remove the conditioning that blocked his actions. After considering the possibility Qui-Gon came to the conclusion that he was neither skilled nor knowledgeable enough to do such sensitive manipulation. Perhaps Master Schal could assist but that would have to wait until they reached Coruscant.  
  
Opening his eyes he looked at Oban stretched out on the sofa, engrossed in his reading. Such a beautiful young man, so eager to please, so vulnerable. Qui-Gon felt his emotions swirl around him. Whichever choice he made he feared the outcome. If he refused Oban the boy suffered... if he allowed a sexual relationship he not only abused his position but he risked Oban's rejection and possibly his disgust when he began his new life. And that, Qui-Gon realised was restraining him as much, if not more, than the idea that it was an abuse of his position.  
  
Feeling his master's gaze on him, Oban looked up from the reader, a question in his eyes. "Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon rose smoothly to his feet. "Would you care for cha, Oban?"  
  
Putting down the reader Oban also rose to his feet. "Let me do that, Master."  
  
The Jedi watched the young man walk to the tiny galley and set the water to boil. "How do you find the reading?"  
  
Oban placed two mugs on the bench, "It's interesting, Master. It makes the concerns of the Trader Clans look very small."  
  
"In many ways they are. It is a big galaxy out there, Obi."  
  
"Do you have more for me to read?" Oban handed a mug to his master and sat back on the sofa.  
  
Qui-Gon sat on a chair facing him. "Yes. There are a number of other wafers, and when we reach Coruscant there is a whole library you can access."  
  
The shining head bent as Oban lowered his eyes, "I feel I don't deserve your kindness, Master."  
  
"Oban ... "  
  
"You give me so much and you won't take anything in return." He raised wide smoky eyes to entreat Qui-Gon, "Please, Master," and slid to the floor to press his for head to Qui-Gon's feet.  
  
The Jedi closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "Obi ... " He looked down at Oban's crouched body. "Please, don't ... "  
  
Oban raised his head and placed a tentative hand on his master's knee. "Let me give you pleasure, Master."  
  
One of Qui-Gon's large hand pushed a lock of hair back from Oban's forehead then fell to cover the hand resting on his knee. "You know what I think about this, Oban."  
  
With his free hand Oban reached and laid it lightly on Qui-Gon's groin. "You want me. And I want you. Why won't you let yourself have this?" Oban was bewildered and hurt and faintly scared. He had never known anyone who controlled their emotions and it unnerved him.  
  
Qui-Gon removed the hand from his groin and held each of Oban's hands in his own rubbing his thumbs across the soft skin soothingly. "I know it confuses you, Obi, and I'm sorry." He made a decision. "Perhaps we can deal with your inability to pleasure yourself."  
  
"But I want to pleasure *you*!" Oban almost wailed.  
  
Taking the bright head between his hands Qui-Gon bent forward and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know ... I know, Obi." He touched Oban's mind, calming and reassuring. "If you can learn to pleasure yourself you *will* please me."  
  
Oban turned his head to press a kiss into his master's palm. "That's not what I mean. I want to be with you."  
  
Qui-Gon ran his thumbs over the young man's cheeks. "If you still want that when you regain your memories ... "  
  
"What if I never regain them? Will I be allowed to stay with you?"  
  
That was a good question. Qui-Gon moved to the sofa taking Oban with him. "You will regain them, Obi."  
  
"But if I don't?"  
  
"You can still stay at the Temple if you want to." Qui-Gon was sure that Oban would remember he had once been Obi-Wan but if he didn't then Qui-Gon was going to do battle with the Council the make sure Oban was allowed to make a life for himself.  
  
"With you?" Oban insisted.  
  
"Obi, you *are* going to remember, and you *are* going to build a new life. Don't expect the worst." Qui-Gon threaded his fingers through Oban shoulder length hair and curved them around his skull, gently shaking Oban's head. "Your focus determines your reality."  
  
Oban let his head rest in his master's hands for a moment then straightened and sat his own hands clasped in his lap and his eyes fixed on them. "If I can learn to pleasure myself will you give me leave to pleasure you before we reach your home?" He raised his eyes to his master's. "Please, Master."  
  
"Oh, Obi." Qui-Gon sighed.  
  
Oban put one hand on his own groin and placed Qui-Gon's over it. "Thank you, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head and shot Oban a glance of mock exasperation. Standing he turned Oban towards the bedroom. "I'll be with you in a minute."  
  
Oban looked at the bed then he turned and looked at the mattress on the floor with its pile of neatly folded bedding. When the Jedi entered the bedroom Oban was kneeling on the mattress on the floor clutching the pillow in his arms. He looked up at Qui-Gon and put the pillow on the mattress beside him. "Tell me what to do, Master."  
  
Holding his hand out Qui-Gon said, "Firstly come up here onto the bed." He tossed the cloth he was holding onto a chair and dimmed the lights to a soft glow. "Oban, do you know how to masturbate?"  
  
Oban ducked his head, blushing. "I think so, I mean, I know in theory and I've done it to other people."  
  
Rather touched by the ex-slaves ability to blush at such a basic human activity, but horrified at an adolescence that forbade a boy from touching himself, Qui-Gon nodded. "All right, it is easier when you're doing to yourself ... you get instant feedback on what feels good." After a brief hesitation Qui-Gon shed his clothes, the idea of instructing a naked pleasure slave how to masturbate while he himself was fully dressed did not seem right.  
  
Oban watched his every move with a hawk-like gaze. A hint of heat replaced the anxiety in the young man's eyes when Qui-Gon stood naked beside the bed. A firm hand pressed him backwards until he was leaning against the pillows. He shivered feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he had in a thousand sexual encounters at the bidding of the Traders.  
  
Qui-Gon lay on his side facing Oban wondering what in heavens he was doing and whether he would survive it with his sanity intact. Shaking off his doubt he reached for Oban's thoughts and projected approval and calm and just the slightest hint of compulsion. "Obi, it is natural to take your own pleasure. It is something you should have been allowed to do as an adolescent, stifling it is both unnatural and cruel. I want to teach you that it is a perfectly acceptable part of your private life." He leaned forward and kissed Oban's forehead again. "I'm right here with you. Now, run your hands over your skin."  
  
Oban's fingers twitched, one hand on his stomach the other on his thigh. "I ... I can't."  
  
"Yes, you can. Just start with your hands where they are... let them move ... feel your skin under your fingers." Qui-Gon watched as Oban began to move, his touch tentative and slow. "Good, feel how your skin feels different on different parts of your body ... and notice what your fingers feel like touching yourself. Enjoy it." He could see the compulsion not to do this, battle with Oban's desire to obey him.  
  
"Obi, close your eyes. Feel your touch, feel your skin ... think about me watching you."  
  
That did it, a faint flush coloured Oban's cheekbones and there was a stirring in his penis. Checking that Oban was not distressed Qui-Gon slid out of his mind leaving only support and a mild compulsion. He closed his own eyes, the sight of Oban lazily fondling himself was playing havoc with his composure. Opening them again he murmured, "Feel your nipples."  
  
There was a gasp as Oban followed the instruction. His slender fingers slid over the sensitive nub and then back, gasping again as a nail grazed the edge. As the sensation began to flood his body Oban's hands became more sure, more sensual, gliding over ribs, firm strokes caressing hips and delicate inner thighs. Oban sighed and let his body melt back against the pillow, finally running hesitant fingers along the hard length of his penis. The image of Qui-Gon resting silent beside him, watching his every move sent a surge of pleasure through him.  
  
His master's soft, lilting voice said, "That's right, enjoy it, Obi."  
  
Oban's breath caught and he arched into his hand opening his eyes to gaze at his master as the climax shivered down his spine. His eyes locked on Qui-Gon's deep indigo gaze as he gasped and the orgasm ripped through him.  
  
Qui-Gon slammed his shields tight over all but his most superficial thoughts and ignored his physical response as Oban's shining eyes poured trust and desire into his. A wash of pleasure permeated the Force around them. Reaching out he brushed damp hair away from Oban's face and smiled.  
  
"Well done, Obi. How did it feel?"  
  
Oban laughed shakily as his master gently wiped him with the soft cloth. "It felt wonderful." He grabbed Qui-Gon's hand and pressed his lips against the knuckle. "But I wish you had been with me."  
  
"I was, Obi." He threw the cloth across the room and pulled the covers over them. "Shh, I know what you mean ... but this time was for you. I want you to be able to do this even if I am not there ... especially if I'm not there. You did beautifully." Reinforcing his approval and affection he sent Oban over the edge into sleep.  
  
Qui-Gon lay watching the sleeping face of the ex-slave in the faint glow of the cabin lights. He looked so calm and innocent. Qui-Gon smiled, in many ways he *was* innocent, which he acknowledged was an odd thing to say about a pleasure slave. But Oban had lived for the past nine years locked away in a harem and while he had no doubt been subjected to sexual acts that would make the most sophisticated Senator blush, in all others ways he was as ignorant of the galaxy as babe in arms ... certainly more ignorant than any padawan could ever be.  
  
Lying back and staring at the ceiling Qui-Gon admitted to himself that he had started down a path to which he could see no end. Perhaps Yoda would be able to see what lay in the future for them, though knowing the wily master he would not divulge what he did see, Qui-Gon thought with a fond smile. No matter what happened, Oban was his, Qui-Gon's, responsibility. Having broken Temple rules and accepted the lad as a gift, it as up to him to make sure he had made the right decision ... for both of them.  
  
With a sigh he gave up trying to ignore his body and got out of bed. Oban was deep in a Force enhanced slumber. Qui-Gon leaned against the wall and let his gaze roam over the young man as his hands strayed to his erection. Oban was covered by a thin sheet that outlined the graceful line of hip and back, a shoulder and one arm were flung outside the sheet and Qui-Gon found his eyes drawn to the strong, slender hand where it lay open on the pale fabric.  
  
Ignoring all his own advice the Jedi concentrated on bringing himself to orgasm as quickly as possible, his fingers following a familiar path as they found the sensitive underside and skimmed around the crown. Quickly he found his rhythm and leaned his head against the wall. He bit the inside of his mouth to silence the shout as he poured his seed into his hand and saw the image of a lost padawan behind his eyelids.  
  


* * *

  
  
Oban stared at the small plastic bottle, pouring his concentration into his task as the perspiration trickled down his face. The bottle tilted and rocked, lifting infinitesimally from the table before it dropped back and fell on its side. Grabbing the bottle before it rolled off the edge of the table Oban set in back on its base and frowned. The worst part of this was that he knew he could do it. Deep inside he just *knew* that he could raise the bottle, or a rock or a person if it came to that, and move it smoothly with the Force. But no matter how hard he tried he seemed to fumble his mental grasp and lose control. He had the strangest feeling that he had done it before although he had no memory of doing so.  
  
He sighed. That was the problem. He had no memory of so many things. In the harem it had never occurred to him to wonder what his life had been like before the Traders found him. Now the empty space that was his childhood haunted him. His master said that the memories would return, that he needed to give it time, but Oban knew that time was running out. Tomorrow they would arrive at Coruscant. He would go with his master to the Jedi Temple and then he would he taken from his master. The Jedi denied it but, slave or no, Oban was no fool.  
  
He had spent hours each day reading the data wafers his master provided for him. He had read about the history of the Republic, the role of the Senate, the history of the Jedi, and last night, the philosophy and organisation of the Jedi. Although the information he had been given was an overview, Oban was intelligent enough to understand that neither the Jedi nor the Republic condoned slavery and that one freed slave was as a grain of sand in the scheme of things. Once, being given to a Jedi who would take him away from the Traders and make him free would have been the height of Oban's dreams, but now that it had happened he was afraid.  
  
His master was the most amazing being Oban had ever encountered. He was kind and gentle, he was teaching Oban things that he had never dreamed of ... how to fight, how to use the Force ... and for the first time he felt valued and safe. Oban knew that his master was a *Jedi* Master, that he roamed the galaxy as an Ambassador and peacemaker ... what use would he have for a pleasure slave. Especially a pleasure slave that he refused to touch.  
  
Oban smiled. That was not quite true. Although his master had refused to have sex with him, he was becoming increasingly affectionate. Having never been touched except for sex or punishment Oban was coming to love the firm, gentle weight of his master's hand on his shoulder, or ruffling through his hair. Having experienced such warmth, Oban was terrified of having it snatched away.  
  
To his bewilderment his master was distressed to learn that Oban was unable to pleasure himself. On the second day of their journey Oban made a deal with his master ... if he could learn to do this he would be allowed to pleasure his master before they arrived at Coruscant. So, each evening his master had added lessons in masturbation. Oban was familiar with sexual tutoring and these lessons were a time of familiarity in days of otherwise alien classes.  
  
This was the last night before they reached Coruscant and Oban intended to have his night with his master... it could be his last chance. Taking a deep breath and shunting his fears to the back of his mind, Oban cleared his thoughts and began the focussing exercises his master had taught him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon returned to the cabin and smiled at the sight of the ex-slave kneeling in meditation. A careful scan showed that the young man was floating in a light trance, thoughts calmly moving in harmony with the Force. His smile turned to one of pride. Who would have thought that in only eight days they could have accomplished so much.  
  
The Jedi master sat at the desk intending to finish his report to the Council but he found himself contemplating the man before him. Oban had easily mastered most of the tasks set for him. Although Oban's mind refused to remember his former self, his subconscious seemed happy to release his early training. Admittedly he was far below the level of a twenty-two year old padawan, but on the other hand he was a little more advanced than the thirteen year old he had been when he was lost ... at least in the areas they had worked on together.  
  
Qui-Gon stared at his dataslate. He would have to report on Oban as well. He began to make notes, ordering his thoughts as he committed them to file. The question was, what would the Council decide to do with Oban? Qui-Gon had promised the lad that he could remain with him but in truth the Jedi was not at all sure that he would be able to keep that promise.  
  
He had hoped that Oban would regain his memories quickly after the inhibitor collar had been removed but that hope had been dashed and now he was placing his faith on the healers, especially Master Scal. There had been moments when Qui-Gon thought the memories were returning. Oban increasingly knew about life as an initiate and a young padawan, but it was a distant knowledge, as though he had known someone who lived that life not as though he had lived it himself. And once or twice he had made a comment that could have only come from a Jedi.  
  
Turning off the dataslate Qui-Gon shed his outer tunic and joined Oban in his meditations allowing his thoughts to flow side by side with his companion's.  
  


* * *

  
  
As usual, after they had eaten, Qui-Gon handed Oban the reader. Tonight the wafer held an overview of the current Jedi Council, along with images of the Temple and a briefing on Jedi routine and etiquette. While Oban was reading Qui-Gon returned to his reports. He finished the mission debrief but decided that the report on Oban was better presented in person.  
  
Qui-Gon was doing a final check of his work when a movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Oban heading for the bathroom. The Jedi let himself watch the lithe body cross the cabin, a slight hitch in his breathing the only sign of the effect the sight had on him.  
  
This trip to Coruscant had been both a delight and a torment to the Jedi. Taking Oban through the meditations and exercises had rekindled Qui-Gon's love of teaching and their shared physical exercises and sparing had reminded him how much he missed by being away from the Temple for months at a time.  
  
The allure of the young man, however, was potent and their nightly lessons in pleasure tested Qui-Gon to the limit.  
  
After several nights Oban began to touch himself freely and Qui-Gon sensed a weakening of the inhibition against the act. On the fifth night he sent Oban to bed and went to speak with the Captain. Telling Oban to begin touching himself while he was gone Qui-Gon kept a light touch on the young man's mind. Prompting Oban gently when he sensed his diffidence and sending occasional suggestions, Qui-Gon completed his conversation with the crew and stayed chatting with the pilot for extra minutes. As he made his way back to the cabin Qui-Gon wondered what the crew would have thought had they known that the Jedi Master was sending erotic images to his travelling companion while discussing astronavigation with them.  
  
Entering the cabin beside his own Qui-Gon had observed Oban through the Force, guiding and encouraging and wrapping him in affection and praise when he came down from his climax. The next night he again left the cabin and guided Oban through his lesson, but last night he had been able to withdraw and allow Oban his privacy, only reentering the cabin when he sensed the release that Oban was too distracted to shield. Drawing the young man into his arms he was lavish his approval and delight and for the first time they had fallen asleep pressed together.  
  
The closing of the bathroom door roused Qui-Gon from his musing. Oban had returned to the main room. Wearing the gold trousers and moving with a hip-swaying glide he held Qui-Gon's eyes as he reached the centre of the cabin and sank to his knees. Lowering his forehead to the floor he placed his hands beside his knees and waited for his master to speak.  
  
Qui-gon placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes trying to gather his composure. Oban had not worn the alluring garment since the first day of the trip and he had not knelt to him since the second night. Remembering Oban's request when he had last knelt, Qui-Gon felt a surge of desire streak through him.  
  
Oban remained silent and still and Qui-Gon went to kneel before him. "Obi. What are you doing?"  
  
"I crave your indulgence, Master." Although his head remained bowed Oban's voice was clear and firm.  
  
"Please look at me, Oban." Qui-Gon placed a hand on his shoulder and urged Oban to rise. "What do you want of me?"  
  
Oban sat back on his heels but he kept his eyes lowered. "I ask that you allow me to please you, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon looked at the tawny head bent before him. "Obi ... "  
  
"You said I could, Master." Oban reminded him, wary but determined. "I have learned my lessons in self-gratification. Please let me ... I want to." He slid his hand forward until it just rested against his master's knee.  
  
When Qui-Gon didn't speak Oban looked into his eyes and saw need, and sorrow. "Please, Master. Let me show you ... " Wanting to dispel the pity he sensed, Oban leaned forward and kissed his master.  
  
As the firm mouth moved on his, Qui-Gon's hand shifted to Oban's arms but instead of pushing him away he simply held the young man. Oban bit gently at his master's lips asking for entrance and when Qui-Gon sighed he invaded his master's mouth with an agile and determined tongue.  
  
Taking Oban's head between his hands Qui-Gon gently moved him away. "You don't have to do this, Obi. You can trust me."  
  
"I do trust you, Master." Oban kissed his master's hand and tried to catch his thumb in his mouth. "I *want* to do this. I have wanted to since the first night."  
  
Surprising Qui-Gon with a sly flick of Force, Oban leaned forward again. This time he pressed his body against the Jedi's, taking possession of his master's mouth and burying his hands in the long, silky hair. Oban allowed his shields to fall. Qui-Gon shivered as he felt lust that was underpinned by a desperate devotion and need.  
  
Suddenly Oban stood and held his hand to his master. "Please, you promised."  
  
Unable to resist the temptation Qui-Gon took Oban's hand and rose to his feet. Still holding his hand Qui-Gon followed the ex-slave ... ex-padawan ... to the bedroom. The Jedi's senses were held by the provocative sway of hips clad in shimmering gold and the faint scent of sweet spicewood. Sparing only a passing thought for where Oban could have found the perfume Qui-Gon tugged gently on Oban's hand and pulled the other man into his arms. Running a fingertip along Oban's jaw he bent and kissed him.  
  
Oban let his head fall back and sighed into the mouth that was ravishing his ... at last. Clutching his master's shoulders he rubbed seductively against the body that had begun to torment his dreams. Wanting to feel flesh Oban slid his hands into his master's tunic and, pushing the fabric aside, he squirmed against his master's broad chest.  
  
Without releasing the mouth under his, Qui-Gon moved across the room and tipped them onto the bed. He could feel as Oban reached bare himself. He took hold of Oban's hands and raised them to his lips, nipping at the fingertips. "Leave them on for now, Obi."  
  
"Master?" Oban ran his hands over his master's skin, tracing along the line of his collarbone and pushing the tunic over his shoulders.  
  
"I like them." Qui-Gon let his hand delight in the feel of satin moulded to Oban's muscled thighs.  
  
Oban lay back and watched his masters hands stroke and caress. A shiver ran through him as his master bent to kiss his throat and lap at his shoulder, long strands of hair sliding over hyper-sensitive skin. He had been with others who had coaxed a response from his body but never had he found himself eager for their touch, arching and gasping at just the whisper of an exhaled breath, the gentle glide of seeking hands.  
  
Qui-Gon propped himself on his elbow and looked down at Oban, brushing bright hair back from sweat sheened skin. The young man was lying, panting softly and staring up at the Jedi with wide, trusting eyes. As he watched Oban's eyelids drooped a little and he rolled onto his side and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled him back and again stilled his hands. "Not yet."  
  
Oban looked questioningly into his master's eyes, then his eyes slid down to the cream training pants. "Yours then." And before the Jedi could respond Oban had slithered down the bed and was tugging the pale fabric down long legs and tossing it to the floor. Sliding back up his master's body he gave an approving sigh and nuzzled into the soft skin where hip and torso met.  
  
Fire raced through Qui-Gon. He reached down to run his fingers through Oban's hair and sighed, "Obi."  
  
"Please ... let me, Master." The young man's voice was husky with need. He rubbed his head against his master's fingers then returned to licking towards his goal.  
  
Qui-Gon watched the tawny head as it assaulted his senses. One hand was clenched into the pillow beside him while the other continued to pet and fondle Oban's head and shoulder. He wished he could see his partner's face but was reassured by the joy that was spilling from his mind. With one warm, wet swipe of his tongue Oban shattered Qui-Gon's control and a deep moan welcomed the eager mouth as it closed around him.  
  
Bringing every ounce of skill and training, Oban set about driving his master to the edge of distraction. Humming happily as he relished the pleasure lighting the Force around them he mumbled objection when he was seized in a firm grip and dragged back up to be comprehensively kissed. Realising what was wanted he moved to lie on his stomach only to be pulled back into his master's arms and rolled onto his back.  
  
With the last of his control Qui-Gon eased his knees to either side of Oban's, holding them together, well aware that the other man was expecting to be fucked. Slicking his cock with a wisp of the Force Qui-Gon leaned down bite gently on Oban's shoulder as he slid between the young man's thighs. Qui-Gon was raised slightly, leaning on his elbows as they rested on either side of Oban's head. The position allowed him to watch the other man and to kiss or bite as he chose, it also gave him leverage to thrust between satin covered thighs while his hips brushed tantalisingly over Oban's genitals.  
  
Oban was moaning and rolling his head back and forth. This was how you had sex with a virgin, or with a woman who did not desire to conceive. As an experienced pleasure slave it was beneath his dignity, almost an insult, yet with this man it filled him with shivering pleasure. Instead of the driving insistence of penetration he was being tormented by sensations that teased, then faded only to tease again. He was awash with pleasure, his body given over to passion and his mind filled with the joy and care his master was exuding.  
  
As his climax tore through him Qui-Gon buried his face against Oban's shoulder, a deep groan muffled against smooth skin as he collapsed onto the body beneath him.  
  
His own erection now crushed against his master's belly, Oban ran his fingers through the long hair that was spread over both of them, combing it back to flow across the Jedi's shoulders. He ran his hands over as much of his master as he could reach, enjoying the warm, heavy body that pressed him into the mattress.  
  
After a long moment Qui-Gon regained his breath and eased himself back onto his elbows. He smiled down at Oban. "I've ruined your clothes."  
  
Oban shook his head. "Buy me another pair." He wriggled against Qui-Gon. "You feel good, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon shifted his hips. "So do you, Obi." He slid his hips languidly across Oban's cock. "What have we here?" With a sly smile into the glittering eyes below him Qui-Gon pushed himself up and settled his elbow beside Oban's hip. "Now this is nice." He brushed his fingers over the hard ridge straining against the silky fabric. "But I think it's time we got you out of these." Taking the waistband in his hands he peeled the clinging satin off and tossed it to the floor.  
  
Leaning back over Oban he bent to press a kiss against the jutting hip bone. Smiling up at the young man he took the hard cock in his hand and ran his thumb over the glistening tip before leaning down to replace fingers with his tongue. Holding Oban's gaze, he bent and took the head into his mouth.  
  
Oban whimpered. Qui-Gon smiled to himself and began to lavish his considerable experience on the man beneath him.  
  
Caught between delight and a hazy feeling that his master shouldn't be doing this to him, Oban was able to do nothing but moan and enjoy the sensation. He felt an insistent touch on his thigh. His master's voice penetrated the cloud of pleasure he was floating in.  
  
"Open for me, Obi."  
  
Automatically he obeyed that voice and was vaguely surprised to feel the warm mouth on his penis swivel and his master's body settled between his legs. Raising his head he murmured when he felt fingers stroking between his legs. Instinctively he raised his hips and was rewarded by the fingers sliding over delicate skin and back to tease the opening to his body. Expecting his master to move back over him he squirmed as a finger slid gently inside. The invading finger moved carefully, stroking and seeking, and then withdrawing to be joined by a second. All the while the wonderful sensation of his master's mouth sucking and licking continued.  
  
Qui-Gon could sense the expectation in Oban's mind. He smiled as he let his fingers nudge inside Oban's body. Overcome, Oban began to thrust. Qui-Gon laid his other hand on the young man's hip to control the wilder thrusts, then he began to hum. Caught between two overwhelming sensations Oban fell over the edge and arched as his orgasm took him.  
  
The Jedi slid back up the bed to look at Oban. The young man was lying sprawled back, his arms outspread and chest heaving. Qui-Gon smiled and brushed his hand along a damp cheek. Deciding that Oban wasn't going to regain coherence in the immediate future Qui-Gon went to fetch a pitcher of water and a towel. When Oban came to, Qui-Gon handed him a glass of water and joined him under the covers.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next morning they meditated after first meal as usual. At mid morning Qui-Gon began packing. As he tossed clothes into the pack he looked across the room. Oban was wearing Qui-Gon's old training pants, the only clothing he had apart from his, now slightly soiled, gold slave pants. He could do nothing about footwear but Qui-Gon held up one of his tunics wondering whether it would be too ridiculously huge on the lad.  
  
Deciding that it probably would he settled on his second robe and hoped they would be allocated a landing platform close to the Temple. Oban watched his master pack. Last night had been beyond his wildest dreams. His emotions swung between delirious joy and resigned misery. It had been bad enough to believe he was going to lose the first person who had ever seen him as more than a slave, now he knew he was also losing his perfect lover.  
  
Qui-Gon finished his packing and went to sit beside Oban. He could sense the emotional turmoil and anxiety in the youth and his heart went out to him. Taking Oban's hand in his he projected support and affection. "You should try one of the breathing exercises, Obi. It will be easier if you can settle your emotions."  
  
A rather dejected voice answered him. "Yes, Master."  
  
The Jedi smiled as Oban closed his eyes and resolutely followed instructions. Qui-Gon left him to his meditations until the little transport swung into the Coruscant atmosphere. Breaking in on the trance he told Oban they had arrived.  
  
It was a calmer young man who stood beside his master watching the glittering planet grow huge and disappear into a vista of towering buildings and bustling skyways. Qui-Gon put his hand on Oban's shoulder and squeezed gently. "It *will* be all right."  
  
Oban nodded, then asked. "Do you have a padawan room in your quarters?"  
  
Surprised Qui-Gon said. "Yes, it has been empty for more than ten years now."  
  
"Then they will probably let me stay with you, at least for a while." Oban gazed thoughtfully out over the busy skyline. "I wonder what Master Yoda will see in my future. He was always nice to me." When there was no reply Oban looked up into his master's face. Seeing the astonished question Oban frowned. "What is it, Master?"  
  
Picking his words carefully Qui-Gon asked, "What do you know about Master Yoda, Obi?"  
  
His frown deepened. "He is the head of the Council isn't he?" When his master nodded, he continued, "That's all really. There wasn't very much in the data, just that he is very wise and can sometimes sense the future in the Force."  
  
Qui-Gon carefully slid across Oban's thoughts. There was a jumble of images of the Temple and several Jedi, some of whom Qui-Gon didn't recognise. "Yes, that's true. Yoda was my Master. He sometimes intimidates the young ones for all that he is no taller than they are." Oban nodded, his frown faded to a puzzled look.  
  
Their ship was gliding to a platform that was usually reserved for Council members or visiting dignitaries. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He shook out his robe and swung it around his shoulders, handing the second one to Oban. "The first thing we need to do is get you some boots."  
  
Oban gave a muffled laugh, "Not to mention trousers and tunics."  
  
"Especially gold trousers?" Qui-Gon suggested.  
  
Oban's eyes flew to his master's and he smiled shyly at the teasing glow in their midnight depths. "Yes, Master. Though I think I can save the pair I have."  
  
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it and placed a swift kiss on the top of Oban's head. "Courage, my Obi. We are home."  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon walked across the landing platform, his pack bumping against his hip, Oban pacing at his shoulder. Apart form the ex-slave's bare feet and shoulder length hair they could have been any Master and Padawan pair returning to the Temple. Three figures stood waiting for them. Masters Windu and Gallia, unmoving in Jedi brown and cream and Master Schal in his healers blue. Qui-Gon suppressed his amusement as he sensed the councillors relief at Oban's appearance. What had they expected? A half naked youth, painted and bejewelled?  
  
All three waiting masters sent discrete probes over the Oban's thoughts. Qui-Gon felt his discomfort and intensified the reassurance he was wrapping around the young man. Bowing formally Qui-Gon greeted the masters and placed a hand on the small of Oban's back, pressing him gently forward. "This is Oban. I believe you were expecting him."  
  
Mace bowed. "We were indeed. Welcome to Coruscant young man. I am Mace Windu, this is my fellow Councillor Adi Gallia, and Master Healer Schal."  
  
Oban returned the bow, his hands hidden within his robe, his eyes lowered.  
  
Meeting Qui-Gon's eyes Schal said. "I am pleased to meet you Oban." Lifting his hand he asked, "May I?"  
  
Oban sent a confused look to his master. Qui-Gon kept his hand firmly on Oban's back and explained, "Master Schal would like to run a quick scan ... to see if you are injured."  
  
Still confused but conscious that his master wanted him to agree Oban nodded and felt a delicate touch skim over his mind.  
  
Schal stood unmoving for a moment then smiled. "Thank you, Oban. I can sense nothing that requires immediate attention. Perhaps Master Jinn will bring you to my office after you have settled into your quarters."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded gravely to the healer. "Thank you, Master Schal. We will visit you after noonmeal." He turned to the councillors. "May I present my report to the Council after we have finished with Master Schal?"  
  
Mace and Adi exchanged glances then nodded. Mace smiled, "It's good to have you back, Qui-Gon. Master Yoda is eager to speak with you... and to meet your young friend."  
  
Qui-Gon bowed consent and shepherded Oban off the platform and into the Temple. As they made their way through the endless corridors he touched Oban's shoulder lightly. "Don't be so worried, Obi."  
  
The youth's expressive eyes lifted to his but Oban simply murmured a dutiful, "Yes, Master."  
  
Steering him into a huge room that contained a long counter and seemingly endless racks of shelving Qui-Gon began ordering clothing. Oban's eyes grew wide as he listened to the growing list of items his master was requesting ... pants, tunics, shirts, trousers, sleeping clothes, training gear, socks, boots, shoes, robes ... and bedding for the padawan room. At this last Oban shot a worried glance up at his master.  
  
Qui-Gon ignored the anxiety seeping from his companion until they had resumed their walk to his quarters. Indicating the small pile of clothes in Oban's arms the Jedi said, "That should keep you going until they send the rest to our rooms."  
  
"*Our* rooms, Master?"  
  
"Certainly. You heard Master Schal. You are to stay with me, at least for the present. He added slyly, "Unless you would prefer to have your own room?"  
  
A flare of panic, "NO...no, Master."  
  
"I didn't think so. Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet." They were rising through the tower in an elevator that made the enormous height disappear in seconds. The door slid open and Qui-Gon continued down yet another corridor.  
  
Oban padded beside his master. "What *is* going to happen?"  
  
Qui-Gon stopped and pressed his hand to a small plate beside a nondescript door. Ushering Oban into an airy room he tossed his pack into a corner and his robe over the back of a chair. "Home, Obi. You can out your things through there." He gestured to a door on the far wall.  
  
Going to the room Qui-Gon indicated, Oban looked around. It was small, holding only a bed, a tall bookshelf and a chest of drawers. A window took up almost all of one wall and showed a spectacular view of the Coruscant skyline framed by the towers of the temple. Oban had never had a room of his own before. He placed the clothing on the bed. A room of his own... the concept was both appealing and frightening. Shedding the robe his master had loaned him, Oban returned to the main room and placed it over the robe his master had worn.  
  
Handing Oban a small mug Qui-Gon sighed. "It's good to be home... such as it is." He sank onto the big sofa and tilted his head. Looking up at Oban, Qui-Gon repeated the other man's question. "What is going to happen?" He smiled and patted the sofa next to him. "First, you are going to sit down." He waited until Oban had done so. "Next you will change into your new clothes... then we will eat... and we will visit Master Schal to see whether he can do anything to help you regain your memories ... and *you* will stop worrying and trust me."  
  
Oban hung his head. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon reached out and ruffled the soft, tawny hair. "There is no need to apologise. I understand that this is all new and frightening." His hand came to rest against Oban's neck. "I don't know what will happen in the long run but for now we will continue your lessons, and add some new ones if you like. Obi ... " Qui-Gon paused. Was he just replacing one sort of servitude with another? Did this young man have any desire to learn Jedi ways? "Obi, I will be here for as long as you need me, but you must tell me what you want."  
  
*As long as you need me.* Oban swallowed, did that mean that his master was only teaching him these things so that he could send him away? Looking down at his hands curled around the pale mug he said softly, "I want to be with you, Master."  
  
"I know, Obi. And I like having you with me, but ... " Qui-Gon studied the grave face beside him. "Oban, would you have preferred to have stayed on Gatharn, or perhaps gone to some other world?"  
  
Oban's eyes flew to his masters face. "No! Whatever happens I will always be grateful to you for taking me from that place."  
  
Qui-Gon's fingers were rubbing gently against Oban's neck. "Do you want to continue our lessons?" A nod. "Would you like to do other lessons?"  
  
A slightly more hesitant nod. "I think so ... only I don't know what they would be."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "They could be almost anything you want. There are instructors in the Temple who can teach you anything from Zvaelan music to pre Republic politics to hyper-reality mechanics." Catching the look of bewilderment Qui-Gon smiled, "But I was going to suggest perhaps philosophy and maths for a start."  
  
"Maths... I was good at maths." It was said in a thoughtful tone but before Qui-Gon could respond Oban continued, "What will happen if I never regain my memories?"  
  
"Then we'll find something else for you to do. Something *you* want to do. And no matter what happens I promise you that you will have a place with me as long as you want it." He rubbed the drooping shoulder. "I give you may word." Qui-Gon poured sincerity and comfort into the Force and pulled Oban into a hug. "But you *will* regain them. I am certain that you are meant to be here."  
  
Oban looked up at his master and reached out instinctively to search his aura. After a moment he sighed and relaxed against the broad chest. He could feel the support and affection and although he was still unconvinced he was determined to enjoy his master's presence while he could.  
  
Qui-Gon hugged Oban tightly then sat up and pointed him to the padawan's room. "Now, go and put some clothes on while I will prepare the food.  
  


* * *

  
  
Master Schal was waiting when they entered the infirmary. He smiled at Oban and gestured towards his colleague. "We would like to run some tests while I talk to Master Jinn." Oban's only experience of medical procedures were painful and invasive and he shifted closer to his master, fear radiating from him.  
  
Qui-Gon met Schal's eyes and said, "If you don't mind I would prefer to observe the procedures."  
  
Schal nodded agreement and shooed away the other healer. "Why don't I do this?"  
  
Letting Master Schal lead him to a stool beside a table containing a variety of mystifying instruments and computers, Oban whispered, "Thank you, Master." Qui-Gon pulled a second stool closer and sat beside Oban. Taking his hand and stroking it lightly with his thumb Qui-Gon continued to talk softly as the healer worked.  
  
Schal watched the pair as he carried out a variety of tests, none of which caused more than minimal pain, much to the ex-slave's amazement. The healer also discretely monitored the body language and mental communion between the two. By the time he had passed the data to a technician and ushered the pair into his office he had reached some conclusions that caused him to smile inwardly.  
  
Sitting behind his desk Schal said, "Now I *do* need to speak to each of you privately." He held Oban's eyes and said gently, "I would like you to wait in the next room, Oban. No one will disturb you and Master Jinn and I will be right here if you need us."  
  
Qui-Gon added, "It will be all right, Obi. This won't take long."  
  
Oban nodded reluctantly and went to sit in the small ante chamber. He felt at ease with Master Schal but in his experience when people discussed you it usually ended with unpleasant consequences.  
  
Schal waited until the door clicked shut then he turned to Qui-Gon. "All things considered that young man seems remarkably undamaged. We need to wait until the brain scans are processed of course, and he will need counselling... do you want me to do that?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "If you would Schal."  
  
The healer rested his hands on the desk top and stated.  
  
"He hasn't regained his memories."  
  
"No." Qui-Gon's voice was bleak.  
  
"None of them?"  
  
"None that relate to himself. He seems to be remembering things about the Temple, and he said something about Master Yoda. But otherwise ... no."  
  
Schal considered, "What about physical skills? Mace said you were going to meditate with him on the trip home."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes. Meditation came naturally to him, as did some of the focussing and balancing exercises. And physically it's as though he never left. I didn't have another lightsabre but otherwise..."  
  
"His body remembers but his mind doesn't ... or can't ... or won't." Schall tapped a finger against the desk. "I won't know for sure until I've seen the results and talked to him, but there is nothing *obviously* wrong. You said he was wearing an inhibitor? Did you bring it with you?."  
  
"Yes. It's in my pack. I was going to show it to the Council. I imagine they will want it examined."  
  
"So do I." The healer held Qui-Gon's gaze. "What about sex?"  
  
Taken aback by Schal's bluntness Qui-Gon glared at him. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Schal smiled faintly. "Sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn't mean to throw that at you. Let me put it this way ... sex is the only thing that boy knows. I imagine he expected you to have intercourse with him."  
  
Regaining his composure, Qui-Gon agreed. "Yes, he approached me several times."  
  
"And what was your response?" The healer watched the indignation flit across Qui-Gon's face. "I'm not accusing you, Qui-Gon. But I need to know before I speak to him."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "I rebuffed him at first. Later he was in some distress and I ... encouraged him to masturbate." Taking a deep breath and blushing slightly he added, "And on the last night we ... engaged in mutual masturbation."  
  
Schal was watching him closely. "And you feel guilty."  
  
"Yes." Qui-Gon sighed. "I should have been stronger. He's so..."  
  
"Seductive?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "...and innocent. It's sad."  
  
Schal nodded. "Yes, it is." He smiled reassuringly, "I think I should schedule some time with you too, Qui-Gon."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed again. "Have I caused him more damage?"  
  
"No. Given his background I doubt it. Of course if you had made enthusiastic use of his talents it would be a different matter. However, he obviously trusts you. I think you have done a good job under difficult circumstances." Schal smiled, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Qui-Gon."  
  
"I'll try not to, Master Schal." Qui-Gon shot the healer a wry smile.  
  
The healer stood, "You have always had a tendency to allow guilt to assume too much importance." He laid a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder and went to the door. "Would you come in now, Oban."  
  
Oban reentered the office and looked anxiously at his master. Qui-Gon smiled. "Your turn, Obi."  
  
The healer said, "Do you want to wait, Qui-Gon?" I could send Oban back to your rooms when we're finished."  
  
Seeing Oban tense, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'll wait."  
  
Apart from Oban's obvious desire that he remain close, Qui-Gon did not want the risk the lad coming face to face with anyone who recognised him as he returned to their quarters alone.  
  
Schal's interview with Oban lasted much longer than the one with Qui-Gon. Falling into a light trance while keeping part of his mind open to Oban's, Qui-Gon thought about the trip back to Coruscant. They worked well together. Better than many master/apprentice pairs Qui-Gon thought with a slight smile. There was trust between them, and affection. If only Oban could break free from his conditioning. His shielding was excellent too. When the masters had tried to probe him on the landing platform he had been distressed but had maintained faultless shielding of all but his outermost mind.  
  
With a start Qui-Gon came out of the trance. If Oban's shields had held against the Councillors and Master Schal, why had *he* been able to feel the lads emotions? To be able to selectively open your shields was a skill most padawans didn't master until they were in their senior training. The only other possibility was the formation of a bond.  
  
When Schal opened the door to call Qui-Gon back into the office he found the master staring blindly at the wall in front of him. "Qui-Gon?" He had to repeat himself before he caught the master's attention. "We are finished for the moment. I have asked Oban to see me tomorrow morning, if that suits your routine?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded absently. "Of course."  
  
Schal peered closely at Qui-Gon then nodded. "Good, I'll expect you at tenth hour Oban."  
  
Qui-Gon was silent as they walked through the Temple.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Oban was casting anxious glances up at him and he could sense his anxiety clearly through the Force. As a test he closed his shields. They had only taken three paces when Oban laid a wary hand on his arm.  
  
"Master? What's wrong?"  
  
Opening his shields again, Qui-Gon sighed as he felt the young man relax. "There is nothing wrong, Obi. I was thinking." It was looking as though they had formed the faint beginnings of a bond. "I have to speak to the Council now. I would like you to stay in our rooms until I return."  
  
"Can't I go with you?"  
  
"I would prefer that you wait here." They had reached their quarters and Qui-Gon palmed open the door. "I have to report on the treaty on Gatharn. I shouldn't be too long. You will find plenty of things to read or watch or listen to. Make yourself at home." He smiled reassuringly and left the room, aware that Oban was standing in the middle of the room staring forlornly at the closed door.  
  
As he entered the Council chambers he was contemplating the almost childlike demeanour that slavery had engendered in Oban. He was trusting and yet wary ... knowing, yet innocent ... so needy ... a sponge ready to soak up love and affection. Adopting his best 'serene master' expression he presented the report on the Treaty negotiations, adding the Trade Clan's gift of a Force adept slave as an addendum.  
  
There was a moment of silence as the Council considered the report then Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, "And this young man is Padawan Kenobi."  
  
Qui-Gon turned slightly, "So it would seem. He has not regained his memories as yet."  
  
Ki-Adi-Mundi was about to speak again when Yoda tapped his stick on the tiled floor. "Saw great promise in young Kenobi, I did. Glad you have found him we are."  
  
Qui-Gon bowed. "It was the will of the Force."  
  
Mace raised his eyebrows at his friends words. "Let us hope he can regain his memory. The question is - what are we to do with him?"  
  
A babble of discussion arose at that with several councillors declaring that he must resume his training if his memory returned. Cutting across the arguments Qui-Gon asked. "And if he does not regain his memory?"  
  
That produced a silence, then a more hesitant stream of comment. The general opinion seemed to be that he should be trained in some other discipline if he did not remember. Qui-Gon could feel Yoda's eyes fixed on him, along with Mace's and Adi Gallia's.  
  
Yoda tapped for attention. "A Jedi he will be."  
  
A low murmur filled the chamber. Mace changed the subject. "Did you assess his training on the journey, Qui-Gon?"  
  
Inclined his head in silent thanks for giving him his opening Qui-Gon replied, "Yes. I took him through junior padawan exercises in meditation and control. I believe he is at least at the level he was when he was kidnapped. His physical skills are formidable." Seeing the evil glint in Mace's eye, Qui-Gon frowned at him. "I was unable to test his 'sabre skills but in unarmed combat I would say he is close to, if not beyond, others of his age. He is strong and balanced and is regaining his grounding in the Force. Of course he has lost nine years and his academic training has been nonexistent."  
  
Mace nodded, "We shall have to see what Master Schal has to say about his memories. Until then you are to continue his training. Confer with the teaching masters about his academic studies. You have an empty padawan room so I suggest he take up residence with you until the matter is resolved."  
  
"Is that wise?" The councillors turned to Yarael Poof.  
  
"This young man has been a sex slave since he was an adolescent, would it not be advisable to give him his own rooms?"  
  
Qui-Gon's voice was bland. "I have suggested that to Oban, but he prefers to stay with me."  
  
Mace added, "Master Schal has recommended that he be left in Master Jinn's care since he is the only person Oban knows on Coruscant. Schal recommends the boy should be allowed to remain where he feels secure."  
  
As there were no further comments Qui-Gon bowed and left the chamber. Before hehad reached the outer doors Mace's voice halted him. "Qui-Gon, just a moment. I wanted to be certain you were comfortable with these arrangements."  
  
"Comfortable? I'm not sure that is quite the word to describe it. I do think it is the only possible arrangement. I am his only ... " Qui-Gon searched for an appropriate word, "Scurity ... the only person he knows here. It would be cruel to send him to a stranger."  
  
"That is what the Traders did to him."  
  
Qui-Gon's face was grim. "Yes, it is. I could have been a monster."  
  
Mace asked, "Would you prefer to let someone else take care of him?"  
  
"No. I like him, and he needs me." He smiled sadly at his friend. "I intend to take him as my padawan you know."  
  
"I rather suspected you did. The Council won't approve it unless his memories return," Mace warned. "We understand that this is an unusual situation, Qui-Gon. It is as well that the Force gave this to you rather than some of our more hide-bound knights. We know that you have this young man's best interests at heart."  
  
Qui-Gon blinked at this uncharacteristic support of his methods. "Thank you, Mace. My faith is all with Master Schal. I don't believe Oban will regain his memories without assistance."  
  


* * *

  
  
On the way back to his rooms Qui-Gon heard his name called. Turning he saw a tall young woman with a padawan braid hurrying toward him. She bowed politely. "Excuse me, Master Jinn. Is it true that you have found Obi-Wan?"  
  
Reflecting that it was almost impossible to keep a secret in the Temple, he prevaricated, "We are not sure yet. Were you a friend of Padawan Kenobi?"  
  
She nodded, "Sort of. I knew him, but it's Bant who was close to him. She contacted me last night and said she'd heard a rumour and could I check it out." The girl blushed, "Oh I'm Zella Liu."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, "Well, Padawan Liu, I assure you that there will be an announcement when we find out who this young man is. In the meantime you should treat the rumour as just that, a rumour. He needs time to heal, whoever he is. Please don't spread this any further until we know."  
  
The padawan looked abashed and nodded. "Yes, Master Jinn."  
  
He said gently, "It is all right. I understand your concern for your friend but it would be counterproductive to raise expectations at this time."  
  


* * *

Qui-Gon entered his rooms to see Oban sitting staring at a holoviewer, a puzzled frown on his face. The sound of boots on the floor pulled the young man's head up and a happy smile replaced the frown. The master went to stand behind Oban.

"What are you glaring at?"

The holo was of a group of young padawans. "I know these people." A slender finger pointed to a Mon Calimari. "That's Bant." His finger moved over the faces naming all but one, a golden haired boy who was grinning at the camera a model of a starrunner in his hands. "These are Jedi children...padawans." He turned to look up at his master. "How can I know who they are?"

Placing his hands on Oban's shoulders he shook the slender body gently. "I said I thought you had been trained by the Jedi." Qui-Gon reminded him.

Oban frowned again. "But if I remember them, why don't I remember me?"

"I don't know, Obi. But I have faith in Master Schal."

Qui-Gon smoothed his finger over the line between the wide blue eyes. "And Master Schal said not to try tos force the memories."

After a final scowl at the holo Oban turned it off and leaned his head back and relaxed against his master. "Are they going to let me stay with you, Master?"

Silently apologising for the half truth, Qui-Gon said, "Yes." He felt to wild flare of joy that raced through Oban and tightened his hands momentarily before stepping back. "It is past time we were thinking about dinner. Do you think you can manage to arrange something?"

Oban nodded happily and raised one of his master's hands to his lips before retreating to the little kitchen. Qui-Gon stared after him then flicked the holoviewer back on. He looked at the group of padawans, his eyes rivetted to the unnamed golden haired boy. Knowing exactly what he would find Qui-Gon switched on the text. There in the middle of his peers was Obi-Wan Kenobi.


	2. Chapter 2

After the meal Qui-Gon sat Oban at the comm. unit and showed him how to access the Temple directory. He pointed out where their quarters were located and also the location of the dinning halls and exercise rooms and how to use the index. Oban had no difficulty with the system so Qui-Gon went on to demonstrate the suite's environmental control panel. He also gave the youth a personal reader and a box to hold wafers as well as showing him how to access the Temple library and how to download data.

As Oban was looking a little overwhelmed Qui-Gon told him to take off his outer tunics. "We haven't had time to really meditate since we arrived." When they were kneeling beside each other he added, "I'd like you to focus on your memories of being with other children. Concentrate on what you feel... what you sense. Just let the impressions wash over you."

With some initial trepidation Oban settled into his trance, calming his mind and releasing his anxiety. He let his thoughts float as he began to recall, allowing the disconnected images to surface at random.

Qui-Gon emerged from his trance to see that Oban was still meditating so he quietly set about preparing for bed. He was reading, sipping hot cha when a sigh indicated that Oban was leaving his trance.

Oban raised his head and stretched his shoulders, his eyes searching immediately for his master.

"The water has just boiled if you would care for cha, Obi." The Jedi was pleased to see that the young man looked relaxed and at peace.

"Yes, Master." Oban nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he took in his master's appearance.

"Should I take my bath now, Master?" At his master's nod of approval he headed for the bathroom and carefully closed the door.

When Oban emerged from his bath, his master was standing before the window staring out over the vast city. Oban drank in the sight of him. The older man was wearing only sleeping pants, his long hair flowing over his broad shoulders, hair and skin silvered in the moonlight. Oban shivered and ducked into the padawan room.

He dropped the towel and pulled on the sleeping pants that had been sent up along with the rest of his new clothes. He looked down at the narrow bed then set his shoulders and returned to the main room.

Qui-Gon could hear the soft sounds of Oban moving from room to room. He resolutely turned his thoughts away from the image of a warm, damp young man wandering around his rooms. His mind was so busy forcing itself away from Oban that he had no warning when a sleek body leaned against his back and strong hands slid around to caress his chest. Qui-Gon froze as he felt Oban press a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Obi?"

Oban let one hand explore his master's throat and shoulder while the other moved purposefully down to dip inside the waistband and tease the delicate skin of his master's belly. "Master." Oban purred as he rubbed his cheek against his master's back.

As desire shot through him, Qui-Gon turned to face Oban retrieving the questing hand as it slithered across his hipbone. Wrapping his arms around the young man, he kissed the bright hair.

"No, Obi."

"Why not, Master?"

Qui-Gon took Oban's face between his hands, "It isn't right."

Oban pressed his body forward and rubbed against his master. "I don't understand. You want me." His hand settled on his master's groin, squeezing gently as he felt the flesh harden under his touch. He turned his head and kissed the hand that was curved around his jaw. "Who would be hurt?"

Placing his hands on Oban's shoulders, Qui-Gon pushed him away. "Obi, when you remember you may not want me."

Oban squirmed forward in an effort to touch his master. "But I do want you now," he said reasonably. "And they will not take away the memories I have." He placed his hands on his master's chest, rubbing a thumb over one nipple and said confidently, "I *will* still want you, Master."

Qui-Gon gave up. He simply couldn't find any more reasons to reject the radiant young man who was gazing up at him with such need, his clear eyes full of trust and hope. Gathering the ex-slave in his arms Qui-Gon held him, letting his fingers learn the elegant sweep of Oban's spine, the soft skin and firm muscle. He buried one hand in Oban's hair to tilt his head back. Qui-Gon looked down and smiled at the shining eyes that were staring up at him. He bent and pressed his lips to Oban's forehead, then gently nipped at his nose before moving to lick along the sensitive lips.

Feeling as though he was going to swoon with sensation, Oban let his head settle back into his master's hand. He could feel a thumb nudge against one ear and long fingers curl around his skull to slide along his jaw. The knowledge that his head was engulfed in that gentle grasp sent an erotic thrill through him. He angled further back and a gasping sob parted his lips to allow his master's tongue to enter and caress him. Warm skin shifted under his grasping hands as he returned the kiss, sending his tongue to duel with the tender invader.

They parted and Qui-Gon felt his every nerve tingle at the heavy-lidded gaze that was devouring him. He heard Oban murmur something unintelligible and felt a gentle pressure at the hollow in his throat. Qui-Gon could feel the happiness and desire that permeated the young man. He swallowed as Oban's mouth moved from collarbone to nipple, sharp teeth grazing and holding before lips settled over the nub of flesh. His hands were roaming over Oban's head and across his shoulders, trying to pull him back for another kiss when Oban suddenly dipped lower and Qui-Gon was shocked by the wet line of a tongue licking down his ribs. He gasped, "Obi."

Oban felt muscle quiver under his mouth and redoubled his efforts. He wanted to return something to this man who had given him so much but most of all he wanted his master to feel pleasure and he wanted to know that it was he who had given it to him. The soft growl of his name brought his head up to see his master's head leaning back against the window, blue eyes heavy with passion.

"Yes, Master." Oban breathed against the taut abdomen. He slid his fingers into the waistband and drew the sleeping pants down exposing angled hipbones, pale skin and the dusky column of flesh that was his goal. The phallus was gently curved against the flat belly. Oban held his master's eyes as he licked his lips and leaned in to place a avid kiss against the shaft. His hands pushed the soft fabric of the pants down past thighs and calves then returned to hold narrow hips. He ran his thumbs slowly back and forth basking in the reactions he was eliciting.

Qui-Gon's whole existence contracted to the sight of the glorious young man who was slowly shredding his control with the touch of strong hands and a mouth that dealt in rapture. Through it all an ecstatic glow filled his mind and united him with the joy that overwhelmed his lover. He felt sensation gather and blossom then he was overcome by his climax and felt his legs crumple under him.

Oban was lost in the bliss of giving pleasure. For the first time he used his talents gladly, teasing and licking and sucking until he took the big cock deep into his throat and swallowed. His master's seed spilled into him and he wrapped his arms around the older man as he slid downwards. He sat holding his master, his face pressed to the Jedi's neck while they caught their breath. When he felt himself circled by his master's arms he snuggled closer and breathed, "My Master."

The orgasm had shaken Qui-Gon to his core. Not so much the physical release, though that had been exquisite, but the profound sense of connection he felt with Oban. He held the young man, his cheek resting on the tawny head. Oban was lying against him, they legs tangled together. He felt the gentle nudge of an erection as Oban shifted slightly in his arms. With a smile Qui-Gon moved one hand downward only to be stopped when Oban seized the hand and drew it to his lips.

"You don't have to, Master."

Qui-Gon copied the gesture and kissed Oban's hand. "But I want to." He placed Oban's hand on his knee and returned to run a teasing finger along the hard penis, gathering the drops of liquid at the tip and wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Oban melted even closer and buried his face into Qui-Gon's neck gasping and moaning as he was skilfully brought to climax.

A husky voice whispering, "My Obi," brought Oban's face up to stare at his master. Aware of the astonishment in the other man Qui-Gon smiled mischievously as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and delicately licked at the semen that covered them. He licked a second finger then offered his hand to Oban.

There was a moment of utter amazement as Oban watched his master, then he shivered and lapped at the offered hand. He ran his tongue languidly up each long finger and was starting on the palm when the hand was pulled away. He shot an glare at his master.

Qui-Gon laughed at the disapproval in Oban's eyes. "If you keep that up we will never get any sleep." He groped behind him and found his sleeping pants, wadding them together he carefully wiped Oban clean. "Bed, young man. You have to see Master Schal in the morning."

Oban rose to his feet and dipped his head, "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon watched him cross to the padawan's room, shoulders hunched slightly, radiating disappointment and resignation even through his tightest shields. "Obi."

He turned, "Yes, Master."

"Wrong room."

The shields thinned and a shy smile lit his face. Qui-Gon reached Oban as he hesitated at the door to the main bedroom. He stood behind the younger man and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Obi, the padawan room is always there for you. Don't feel you have to join me." One hand rose to lay a finger on Oban's lips. "Yes, I do want you with me. But I need you to know that you don't have to be here unless you want to be. I won't throw you out if you don't want to sleep with me ... or do anything else for that matter."

Oban moved forward and turned to face his master. He raised solemn eyes and said firmly, "I want to be with you."

Wondering whether he had made terrible mistake, Qui-Gon nodded. "That's settled then. Bed."

* * *

  
  
The next morning Qui-Gon accompanied Oban to see Master Schal and was surprised when the healer asked them both into his office.  
  
Schal smiled at the two men. "I wanted to tell you both about the test results. There is nothing physically wrong with Oban, though there are some oddities in his scan. I believe that the inhibitor collar may be responsible for those. Qui-Gon, you told me that the people of Gatharn are not Force sensitive?"  
  
"No, and neither were the Traders that I had contact with."  
  
"Oban, do you know if any of the Traders were Force sensitive?" Schal asked.  
  
Oban shook his head. "I don't think so. I have never encountered anyone who 'felt' like my Master, or you, Master Schal."  
  
The healer nodded, "I think we can assume that they are not. In that case I don't think they were the ones who fitted the collar." He smiled at the surprise on both the other's faces. "Most of the changes to the connections in Oban's brain appear to have been made in a systematic fashion. I don't believe a device would have caused those patterns. There are other slight alterations that are random and *those* I believe were a side effect of the collar."  
  
Qui-Gon asked, "Can you heal them?"  
  
Nodding, Master Schal said, "I believe so, at least enough to restore normal patterns."  
  
Both masters could feel the relief and trepidation that filled Oban. Qui-Gon placed his hand over Oban's. "Things will be fine, Obi."  
  
Schal agreed, "He's right, Oban. I believe that we will be able to restore the bulk of your memories. I don't think they are lost, merely inaccessible." He turned to Qui-Gon, "Now I need to speak to Oban, if you would care to wait."  
  
"I wish to speak to the training master, but that won't take long." He smiled at Oban, "I'll be waiting when you finish."  
  
Qui-Gon left the office and headed for the training rooms. He found Vasin Beel, the master in charge of training, and arranged for a private room to be made available. To avoid unwanted curiosity he had it booked under Master Beel's name. Then he went back to his rooms to fetch the collar and dropped it off at the labs on his way beck to wait for Oban.  
  
A little more than an hour later Schal called Qui-Gon into the office and asked Oban to wait. Qui-Gon saw that Oban was looking rather pale and he smiled reassuringly.  
  
"That is a very resilient young man." Schal observed as Qui-Gon sat opposite him.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "Yes, I can only imagine what his life must have been."  
  
The healer tapped his finger on the pile of data wafers. "I believe we are dealing with three interconnected problems. Firstly, the effects of the collar; secondly, the unskilled actions of a Force user; and thirdly... I think that trauma has exacerbated the problem. I think they tried to suppress his knowledge that he was a Force user and a Jedi but their techniques were heavy handed and it interfered with all of his memory prior to that time."  
  
"But you can help him?"  
  
"I think so. I started with a preliminary probe today. The interference with the brain patterns is neither chemical nor physical. The pathways just seem to be..." Schal searched for the correct term.  
  
"Re-routed?"  
  
The healer threw Qui-Gon a surprised look. "That's it exactly."  
  
Qui-Gon explained. "I asked about his memories after I removed the collar. It seemed he was being led away from certain memories ... if that makes any sense."  
  
"Did you try to do anything about it?"  
  
"No. I did consider trying to remove his block about masturbation but I decided that I might do more harm than good. Force healing has never been my strong point."  
  
Schal sat back in his chair is arms cross over his chest. "I don't know, you seem to do all right in the field, Qui-Gon. But you were probably right in this case. I have to say it's a mess. I don't think we will be able to restore everything. It won't be a case of fixing something and having it all come back, we will need to trace each damaged pathway."  
  
"And what about the trauma aspect?"  
  
"Have you noticed that his early memories with the Traders are missing too?" The healer's smile turned grim, "That seems to be after the collar went on. Either the Force user did his dirty work after Oban was in the harem, which seems unlikely, or some of the loss is trauma induced. In that case he will probably never recover it."  
  
Qui-Gon met Schal's eyes, "That could be a blessing."  
  
"In a way. Unfortunately that sort of memory loss has a nasty habit of resulting in flash backs and nightmares, not to mention unexpected changes in behaviour patterns."  
  
"So where do we go from here?"  
  
"The first thing is to get those pathways cleared. There will have to be some fairly deep probing. I'd like you to be there for that."  
  
"Of course." Qui-Gon nodded. "Is there anything I should be doing?"  
  
"Keep doing whatever it is you are doing. He trusts you. You are giving him a firm base."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded again, then said slowly, "Would it be damaging for us to have a sexual relationship?"  
  
A smile lit the healers eyes but his expression remained unmoved. "He wants that?"  
  
"Yes. He is quite persistent."  
  
At that Schal did smile. "I can see no reason why it should cause problems as long as you both want it."  
  
"It won't reinforce his dependence?"  
  
Schal shrugged, "Possibly. But you need to remember that he is already devoted to you. Given his recent history I think that the emotional consequences could be harder for you to deal with than for Oban."  
  
"I had considered that."  
  
"I know you, Qui-Gon Jinn. You are afraid of taking advantage of Oban and you are justifiably concerned that a sexual relationship will harm his recovery. What would harm him is for you to have a sexual relationship with him now and break it off when he regains his memories. You need to be very sure that you can follow through. He is extremely vulnerable and he has connected strongly with you. It is vital that you be there for him. He needs *you* more than he needs the sex. If you become lovers you had better be prepared for the long haul, this is not someone you can have casual sex with."  
  
Schal shook his head, "Not that you are the casual sex type, Qui-Gon. But this is an unusual case. Oban is sexually experienced but has no experience at all in emotional matters. Don't start anything that you can't finish, and by that I mean that you need to be there for him for as long as he needs you. You can't just walk away if it becomes too much. That is a big ask for anyone. And there are no guarantees. You may have to let him go," the healer said gently. "He may need to make a complete break."  
  
Qui-Gon rubbed his fingers along the side of his nose. "I know. I had considered most of that but it helps to have it stated in black and white."  
  
Schal smiled warmly, "It is not so different from any relationship really, you just need to remember that Oban is more vulnerable than most. Don't get involved out of pity. He's not stupid, he *would* figure it out."  
  
"No, he's not stupid at all." Standing Qui-Gon nodded, "Thank you Master Schal. I gave the collar to the lab by the way."  
  
"Good. I'll see you both tomorrow morning."  
  
As they left the healer's office Qui-Gon could feel the curiosity seeping from Oban. He looked at the silent figure beside him. "How do you feel, Obi?"  
  
"All right, I think, Master." Oban sounded subdued. They walked in silence for a while then he asked, "May I see the initiates quarters, Master?"  
  
Slightly surprised, Qui-Gon said, "Certainly. We could go there now if you like." The quiet figure beside him nodded so he headed for the elevators. Once inside Qui-Gon raised the hood of his robe and indicated that Oban should do likewise. Puzzled but compliant Oban obeyed and when they emerged from the elevator they made their way through the labyrinth of the Temple, two anonymous Jedi going about their silent business.  
  
It was time for noonmeal and the initiates quarters were deserted as Qui-Gon slowly led Oban through the class rooms and the common rooms and finally into the dormitories. Oban stood at the entrance of each room and devoured it with his eyes. Qui-Gon could sense the young man drawing further into himself and tightly closing his shields. When they reached the third dormitory a faint gasp escaped his companion and the master asked gently, "What is it, Obi?"  
  
Oban took several steps into the room then stopped, shoulders tense, his voice shaking as he said, "I know this place."  
  
He waved a hand vaguely at the door. "I felt it out there too, but here..." He took another step, then turned to his master. "I really was a Jedi?"  
  
Qui-Gon's heart went out to the young man, his forlorn tone and frightened eyes pulling the master to him. He put an arm around Oban's shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "Yes, Obi, I think you were." He kept a supportive hand on Oban's shoulder. "What do you remember?"  
  
There was silence as Oban slowly walked further into the room, his master a comforting presence at his side. Coming to a halt before the second last bed he reached out a hand to touch the covers. "You can see the Council Chambers from here."  
  
Qui-Gon sat on the little bed drawing Oban with him. He turned to look up through the narrow windows that ran along the top of the wall opposite and sure enough, there was the domed cap of the central spire.  
  


* * *

  
  
Once they were back in their quarters Qui-Gon sat Oban on the sofa and went to search the kitchen. He came back carrying a platter of bread and cheese and set it on the low table, disappearing again to return with juice and cookies. He was concerned by the bewildered expression in the young man's eyes. Handing a glass to Oban he asked, "What is it, Obi?"  
  
A frown drew Oban's eyebrows together and he took a gulp of the juice before he said hesitantly, "There are ... things ... in my head."  
  
"What sort of things?"  
  
"Faces ... sounds ... things ... " His shook his head to clear it.  
  
Qui-Gon reached out to him, "May I see?" he asked gently.  
  
With a shaky nod Oban grabbed his master's hand holding it against his chest.  
  
The Jedi put his glass down and placed his free hand on Oban's head, rubbing his fingertips lightly over the temple. "Relax, Obi. Let me see." Oban's shields tumbled and Qui-Gon was swamped by a kaleidoscope of images and sensations. He saw the Temple creche; saw it flooded with the morning sun, lit by the glow of nightlights, filled with the chatter of children; he saw the Coruscant skyline from a dozen vantage points around the Temple; he saw the faces of hundreds of people, mostly Jedi, many he knew and others who where strange to him; he saw images of childish sparing matches; heard scraps of conversations; and there were smells and sounds and images that flitted by so quickly he could make little sense of them.  
  
It seemed that Oban's memories were returning but they where coming in disjointed pieces with nothing to connect them and there was still no sense of self. Nothing to tell Oban that he had been Obi-Wan.  
  
Qui-Gon gathered the disconnected fragments and bundled them together in a loose collection so that they were not skittering wildly around the young man's mind. Then he calmed and soothed Oban, reassuring him of his affection and bolstering his self esteem.  
  
Qui-Gon sat back and looked at the lad. His hand was still clasped tightly to Oban's breast, and Qui-Gon placed his other hand over it and held it firmly. "Better?"  
  
Oban took a shuddering breath, a smile curled his lips as he shyly reached back into his master's mind to offer a wave of gratitude and love. "Thank you, master."  
  
"You are very welcome, Obi. It's bound to be confusing at first, but at least the memories are coming back." He brushed his lips across Oban's cheek and said, "Master Yoda has asked to see me this afternoon. I have assembled some lesson wafers. Why don't you look through them while I am gone?"  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon's meeting with Master Yoda allayed many of his concerns. Although he knew Yoda had read both his own and Master Schal's reports, Qui-Gon recounted his meeting with Oban and their trip back to Coruscant. He talked about the young man's submissive demeanour and his expectation that they would have sex as well as his curious innocence and his odd flashes of memory.  
  
Yoda watched him carefully as he detailed the past twelve days. The ancient master was silent as Qui-Gon poured out his anxiety and his affection for his new charge. When he had finished Qui-Gon finally looked at Yoda. The love and support in the wise old eyes eased much of the tension Qui-Gon had been unaware he was carrying. There was a knowing gleam that told Qui-Gon that his master understood what had been left unspoken, but all Yoda said was, "Great promise he showed. Visit after dinner I will."  
  
As he walked back to his rooms Qui-Gon smiled fondly at his master's unqualified support and understanding. Palming open his door Qui-Gon checked the state of Oban's emotions. He was pleased to sense peace and happiness and complete concentration.  
  
He smiled as he saw that Oban was running through his own exercise routine. The young man was dressed in Qui-Gon's old training pants and was glowing in the filtered sunlight as he flexed and stretched.  
  
The master was withdrawing from the mental contact when he felt another presence in the suite. His eyes went to the little storage room. The door was ajar and he stalked across the common room and threw it open. There was the sound of movement and a flare of alarm as shields slipped in panic. Two young padawans froze as Qui-Gon grabbed them with the Force.  
  
Qui-Gon stopped and stared into the tiny room. Though it was now used as a storage space it had been designed to allow provisions to be delivered to the suite and had a door that gave access to the corridor. The exterior door should have been sealed but now it stood open as one of the padawans reached for the handle.  
  
"What the hell are you doing in my rooms?"  
  
The padawans flinched at the tone of the master's voice. Their eyes swivelled to each other then back to the towering man before them. "We were curious."  
  
"Curious?" Qui-Gon's voice had lowered slightly but the underlying growl did nothing to calm the two teenagers. "What was so intriguing it made breaking into my rooms necessary?"  
  
The padawans looked uneasily from each other to the irate master before them.  
  
"Well?" Qui-Gon growled.  
  
"The slave," one of the boys muttered, "We wanted to see the pleasure slave."  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he ruthlessly suppressed his fury. With a flick he slammed the exterior door and sealed it, then he released the Force holding the boys and snapped, "Come with me." He led them into the main room. "What are your names?"  
  
The padawans stammered their reply, wary eyes fixed on the incensed master.  
  
Qui-Gon stared down at them with an expression of disgust. "You will go directly to your masters and you will tell them precisely what you have done. I expect a formal apology both to myself and to my guest." His voice took on a muted roar, "Now get out of here." He watched as the boys fled the room, breathing deeply to settle his wrath.  
  
Turning he was shocked to see Oban folded into a submissive crouch on the floor and to hear the elegant voice murmur, "Forgive me, Master."  
  


* * *

  
  
When his master left Oban had flicked through the wafers. There was so much for him to learn, so much that piqued his interest. He found the first math wafer and worked his way through it. When he had finished he picked up the second then laid it down again. He had done no exercise today. He went to the padawan's room, *his* room, and stripped off his clothes. He looked at his new training gear then turned and pulled on the training pants his master had given him, winding the soft cord around his waist to hold them secure.  
  
In the main room there was a wide space that they had used for meditation. Oban rolled up the rug and pushed a chair and a low table out of the way, then he began the routine of exercises that he had developed for himself. He fell easily into the movement, allowing his body to find its rhythms and his mind to soar. He was almost at the end of the routine when he felt his master delicately touch his mind and he shyly opened his shields and welcomed the warm caress.  
  
He was beginning the final forms as the door opened and was happily anticipating their greeting when he felt his master's attention shift. The young man's concentration was broken. Curious, he followed the direction of his master's thoughts. There was a presence, more than one, in the little room beside his master's bedroom.  
  
Oban had turned his attention back to his exercises when he was jolted by a wave of anger radiating from his master. He stumbled to a halt and looked nervously at the now open door. Though he could not see into the room he could sense the consternation coming from the interlopers and the displeasure radiating from his master. The door opened further and his master emerged trailed by two young teenagers dressed in Jedi robes.  
  
The anger pouring from his master overwhelmed Oban. He heard the disgust and rage in the normally soft voice and was filled with panic. Suddenly he was back in the harem and the person who held his fate in their hands was angry. Not registering the words he only heard the door slide shut as the padawans left.  
  
He was alone with his master and his master was angry.  
  
Oban responded in the way that had served him in the past, he sank to his knees and lowered his eyes. He felt the other man turn to face him and he touched his forehead to the polished wood. "Forgive me, Master."  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon was stunned to immobility. "What are you doing?" The youth trembled and curled tighter in on himself. Realising that he had spoken more harshly than he had intended Qui-Gon said softly, "Obi, please get up."  
  
The young man seemed to withdrew even further. His surface shields were open and his mind was radiating repentance and submission, there was no thought but to appease his master. A pale, slender hand slid forward and he repeated, "Forgive me."  
  
His eyes dark with pain, Qui-Gon knelt and stroked Oban's hair. An ache burning in his throat he whispered, "Oh, sweetheart," beneath his breath. He lifted the beseeching hand and kissed it, then bent to kiss the nape of Oban's neck. Worried, he gently rubbed the young man's shoulder. Oban had asked for forgiveness but his posture screamed *Don't hurt me!*.  
  
Kneeling, Qui-Gon gathered Oban into his lap, "You are not at fault, Obi. There is nothing to forgive. Those padawans invaded your privacy, they are the ones at fault."  
  
Not meeting his master's eyes, Oban said, "They did it because of me."  
  
Qui-Gon lightly touched Oban's mind and flinched from what he saw... fragmented images of Trade lords radiating anger ... of slaves scattering ... of those not moving fast enough being kicked or beaten ... or being dragged to a couch and casually raped. The Jedi felt his gorge rise.  
  
Battling to keep his voice and demeanour calm, Qui-Gin tried to reassure and soothe Oban, "No, Obi. What they did was unkind and unworthy of a Jedi, even a junior padawan. And they were motivated by prurient curiosity. It was *not* your fault." He took both Oban's hands and drew him to his feet. Pushing the ex-slave gently to the sofa, he kissed his forehead and said, "Wait here."  
  
Oban watched as his master headed into the bathroom. He had felt the other man's revulsion at his memories and the instantaneous flood of comfort but he knew that his master was still angry. He curled his arms around himself and waited for the outward signs, for the shouting and cursing, for the sound of things being hurled about. All he could hear were the soft sounds of his master moving around the bathroom and the soothing rush of running water.  
  
The lack of any outward signs of anger worried Oban. He knew how to deal with shouting and how to deflect physical mistreatment but he had no idea what to expect from the Jedi. He seemed calm but Oban could feel his roiling emotion.  
  
Rocking back and forth he waited. When his master called for him Oban stood obediently and walked across the room. His eyes widened to see his master standing naked beside the big bath tub, hand outstretched in invitation. Oban stood in the doorway, body quivering with tension. Eyes wide and wary, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. It was going to be sex then.  
  
He turned his head and surreptitiously wiped away the tear that stole down his cheek. Then he began the familiar process of shutting himself away. In the past it had allowed him to endure the unendurable ... this time it would allow him to pretend this wasn't happening ... to keep the gentle, sensual lover separate from the man who was doing this. He would rather it had been a beating.  
  
Qui-Gon watched the emotions playing over Oban's face. The young man looked defeated, and scared. In all the time since he had led Oban from the Gatharn banqueting hall the young man had never been afraid of him. The Jedi breathed deeply and focussed on releasing as much of his anger as he could. Then he stepped into the tub, settling into the hot, relaxing water. "Would you like to join me, Obi?"  
  
Oban stared at the tall man before him, desire and trust battling with fear. His master was leaning against the end of the tub, his long hair tied into tail which trailed over the edge almost touching the floor. There was a sweet, calming aroma into the air. Oban shivered and took a timid step forward, then he saw the gentle question in the indigo eyes and moved more surely. Shedding his clothes, Oban stood for a moment looking down at the long, powerful body.  
  
"Join me," Qui-Gon repeated. He took Oban's hand and urged him forward smiling as the young man stepped into the water. Thwarting an attempt to sit at the other end of the tub, Qui- Gon manoeuvred Oban so he was leaning back against him. The young body was rigid in his arms but he felt some of Oban's anxiety fade as he pulled the young man back against his chest and grazed gentle lips over Oban's temple. He smiled as he felt Oban relax a little into his embrace.  
  
Wrapping his arms around the young man, Qui-Gon said carefully, "You never need to apologise for someone else's wrongdoing, Obi. You will never punish be punished for something someone else did. And no matter how angry I am I will never ... *never* ... treat you the way the Traders did."  
  
"No, Master."  
  
"You don't believe me do you?" Qui-Gon rested his cheek on Oban's head. "I was furious with those boys but did you see me hit them or threaten them?"  
  
Oban played his memories back, paying attention to details that he hadn't noticed in his fear. His master had sounded angry, his voice had snapped and growled but he hadn't shouted and he hadn't touched either of the boys. "No, Master," he dipped his head.  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes in exasperation. "Obi, do you think I would treat them better than you because they are Jedi?" Aware that his master was disturbed Oban lied, "No, Master."  
  
Hugging the slender body close to him, Qui-Gon kissed his temple again and teased gently, "Don't lie to me, young man. It *is* what you think. Well, I will just have to show you otherwise."  
  
He rested his chin on Oban's shoulder. "Obi, you are not a slave anymore! You have rights. I am going to give you something else to read ... the rights and responsibilities of Jedi Initiates and Padawans." He placed a finger over Oban's lips. "Don't say that you are not a Jedi. We both know that you were once, and you are going to be again. I won't have anyone treating you without respect ... not even you, Obi."  
  
Oban felt the sincerity behind the words but he couldn't relate them to himself. He knew that his master could sense his feelings so he opened his shields and concentrated on the joy of being held. There was a wry sense of frustration from his master and a warm flow of affection and acceptance. A soapy hand began working it's way across his shoulders and down his arms. The hand began rubbing his chest. Oban sagged back and began purring as the hand slid lower.  
  
"Don't ever be afraid of me, Obi." Qui-Gon murmured into Oban's ear, licking around the curved edge and nipping softly. "I would never willingly hurt you." He slid his hand under the water and curled it around the young man's rising erection.  
  
Pleasure washed through Oban as his master's hand held him. A second hand moved lower to cup and fondle as the first ran firmly along the shaft, pulling the skin back gently and teasing the sensitive, flaring head. Oban could feel his master's mouth against his skin as he pressed closer to the body behind him.  
  
Qui-Gon shifted a little until his penis was cradled in the crease of Oban's buttocks. He nuzzled against the satin of the hair against his lips as his hands worshipped the man who was writhing and squirming in his arms. Oban's movements were producing exquisite friction on the cock that nestled against his flesh. The Jedi held back until he felt the tremors running through Oban and then he thrust slightly, the nudge of his penis adding to the sensations that were flooding the young man.  
  
Oban tried desperately to resist his climax until he could shatter his master's control but the combination of sensations was too much for him. With a groan he arched back, tugging at his master's head to bring their mouths together for a searing kiss. He could feel his master's pleasure, sense the joy the Jedi had in giving this to him and his heart overflowed with love and gratitude.  
  
As the strong, young body twisted in his arms Qui-Gon gathered him back into an embrace and bent to kiss him again. The nascent link between them was glowing with their shared pleasure. Qui-Gon softly touched Oban's mind as he stroked the damp hair and cheek. He smiled as he shifted under Oban, enjoying the slide of skin over slick skin. The Council might decide against allowing this man to be his padawan but they were going to have trouble denying the bond between them.  
  
Deep in the most firmly shielded part of his thoughts Qui- Gon acknowledged that his role as ambassador and peacekeeper was going to be severely complicated, even jeopardised, if Oban was unable ... or unwilling ... to take his place at his side. He pushed the thought aside as he slid out from under the sated youth. It was unusual for a Jedi to have a non-Jedi partner, *lover ... admit it,* but not unheard of. The idea of Oban travelling with him as his 'consort' or staying at the Temple awaiting his return brought a frown to his face. Then he consoled himself with the knowledge that Yoda believed Oban would become a Jedi again.  
  
That thought reminded him of the diminutive master's impending visit. As he dried himself Qui-Gon leaned over and brushed damp hair out of Oban's eyes. "Master Yoda wishes to meet you this evening, Obi."  
  
Blue/grey eyes brimming with contentment smiled up at him. "Yes, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled at the easy acceptance, relieved to see that Oban's earlier fear had all but disappeared. He brushed a caress across Oban's mind as he bent to kiss him again, then turned to find his clothes. "Don't soak too long, unless you want to wait until after Master Yoda's visit before you eat."  
  
Oban lay in the cooling water, marvelling at the wonderful and inexplicable man who was his master, while Qui-Gon fled to his bedroom and slammed the thickest shields he could manage over the turmoil in his mind.  
  
*He thought I was going to take him in anger. Use him to vent my ire.* Qui-Gon sank his head into his hands. *And he was going to let me do it.* The Jedi master felt vaguely sick as he remembered how Oban had stood in the doorway a tear sliding down his face. He had been shaking with fright and yet his eyes were filled with devotion as he moved to the tub. Qui-Gon knew that it was going to require some serious meditation before he would be able to come to terms with his emotions about the afternoons events and realisations.  
  
Aware that Oban would join him soon he bundled the emotions together and shoved them into the back of his mind where they wouldn't unnerve the other man.  
  


* * *

  
  
Yoda arrived later in the evening as Qui-Gon and Oban were sitting at the desk in front of the comm unit with Qui-Gon recommending works of literature and philosophy for the younger man to download. The easy affection between the men was clear for the diminutive master to see and he shot his former padawan a quizzical glance as he greeted Oban.  
  
At first Oban hovered close to his master and said little, but after a time he relaxed and began chatting happily.  
  
When he was sure that the young man was at ease Yoda tapped his stick against Qui-Gon's leg and said, "Go. Meditate you should."  
  
Qui-Gon bowed, "Yes, Master." He raised a questioning eyebrow to Oban and retreated to his bedroom when the young man nodded. Pulling the door closed behind him Qui-Gon let his thoughts clear, briefly scanning Oban only to have Yoda deliver a mental slap and a terse *no peeking*. Some hours later he was roused from his meditation by a light touch from Master Yoda and he returned to the common room to see Oban seated on the floor laughing at something the little green master had said.  
  
Yoda gave Qui-Gon a long look and uttered a cryptic, "Hmmm. Watch your progress I shall. Late it is, leave now I must." He trotted to the door in front of Qui-Gon, pausing as he left to look up and say, "Glad I am you found him. Meant to be here he is."  
  
Qui-Gon turned to find Oban was boiling water for cha. He watched the young man moving around the little kitchen then joined him to take the hot mug from his hand. "A great deal has happened today, Obi. How do you feel?"  
  
There was a pause and then Oban smiled, "Tired." His mellow voice was indeed sleepy but his expression was contented and his mind calm. As they sat drinking Oban cast a wistful glance at his master, wishing he had the right, or the courage, to move into his arms.  
  
Qui-Gon caught the glance and the longing. He opened his arms and wrapped them around Oban pulling him close as the youth nestled against him with a happy sigh.  
  


* * *

  
  
Over the ensuing days they settled into a routine. Oban fell in with his master as a matter of course, but he found he was enjoying himself and was happier than he could ever remember being. He had accepted life in the harem and made the best of it but since leaving he had realised how bored he had been. The pleasure slaves were left alone for most of the day and their opportunities to amuse themselves were limited. They were confined to the harem complex and apart from their bedrooms and the common rooms there was only a gymnasium and a small walled garden they could use. There was also a limited collection of vids and an old stack of books, consisting mainly of romance and mild adventure stories and old court gossip sheets.  
  
Being allowed to read was a revelation and a delight to Oban. Being encouraged to extend his knowledge and satisfy his curiosity was even better, especially when his master discussed his reading with him, explaining and expanding on what he learnt.  
  
His sessions with Master Schal were interesting too. The healer was carefully working through his past and helping him with the unconnected memories that had emerged, linking fragments and explaining what places and events signified. Master Schal insisted that they would be able to retrieve enough of Oban's memories for him to function in the Temple if that was his choice.  
  
But Oban still worried about his future. He wanted to stay with his master but he was intelligent enough to realise that there was no place for a pleasure slave in the Jedi's life. He wondered whether he could gain the knowledge and skills to be an assistant to his master. He knew that on Gatharn both the Traders and the Gatharns themselves had used assistants who were not slaves. Perhaps this was a way he could stay with the man who had become the centre of his world.  
  
And he liked the Temple. After spending nine years limited to the harem, the Temple was unimaginably huge and fascinating. Although he had only seen a small part of it, it was filled with the signatures of the Force users who lived there and radiated energy and peace. Even the negative emotions he had felt in the Force here were more benign than those he experienced on Gatharn.  
  
His relationship with his master filled Oban with both joy and trepidation. He had never known anyone like his master. Where Oban was used to being thrown curt commands the Jedi issued polite requests and asked for his opinion. Although the older man was obviously strong and a skilled warrior Oban had never seen him make a move that was other than graceful and restrained.  
  
Even when they sparred his movements were controlled and when he connected with Oban during their exercises he always checked immediately and soothed any hurt Oban drew comfort from the fact that the older man had stopped turning away from physical intimacy. He revelled in the easy affection his master showed him throughout the day but he lived for the nights. They slept together in his master's huge bed. The big man seemed to enjoy simply holding him and Oban was happy to oblige. They came together with tender, passionate caresses and ended intertwined with Oban held close against his master. Oban had never experienced a partner who delighted in giving pleasure, who gave so much and would accept so little return.  
  
Although Oban cherished what they had he found himself longing to give his master more, to accept him into his body, to become one with him, to experience the joy of ultimate intimacy. During their lovemaking he had several times moved to offer his body but each time his master either gently turned him back or distracted him by causing erotic havoc with his mouth and hands.  
  
Oban was increasingly aware of a connection between them. He found that he didn't need to lower his social shields to be able to discern his master's mood or even gain a sense of his thoughts. The growing intimacy was the centre of his existence, never had he felt this sense of belonging and security. But why would a Jedi Master feel any deep attachment to a pleasure slave?  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon was finding that the longer Oban was with him the more he enjoyed the ex-slave's company and the more certain he was that this young man was destined to be both a Jedi and an important part of his life. Fortunately for his peace of mind both Master Schal and Master Yoda seemed to be of the same opinion and even Mace was being cautiously supportive. The question that troubled him most was what Oban himself wanted. The lad was adamant that he wanted to be with Qui-Gon but he wondered whether Oban had any idea what it would mean to become a Jedi, the amount of study and effort that would be required.  
  
Physically Oban was strong and graceful and at least as fit as any other padawan. His connection with the Force was innately powerful and he was finding the exercises in focus and control relatively easy. Academic studies were a different matter. Oban had lost nine years and no matter how gifted he was he could not replace that loss without patience and perseverance.  
  
The major hurdle, however, was likely to be Oban's view of his own place in the universe. Qui-Gon could not see how Oban could operate as a Jedi if he continued to view himself as a pleasure slave.  
  
Although he had overcome his initial reluctance to have sex with Oban, Qui-Gon was still uncertain. The obvious pleasure Oban felt in their joining could not quite rid the Jedi of the belief that he was using the ex-slave. Qui-Gon had always been a lover who took pleasure in giving pleasure and with Oban it had become almost a mission. To see the amazement in the crystal bright eyes and sense Oban's cautious joy, to nurture and tantalize the emerging freedom he sensed in the youth's response gave Qui-Gon a satisfaction unlike any he had known before. And the joy he found in Oban's touch was becoming addictive.  
  
And yet he worried... worried that he was reinforcing Oban's conditioning ... worried that he was fostering Oban's dependence ... and most of all that he was using him.  
  


* * *

  
  
On the fourth morning Master Schal did his first deep mental probe. Both Qui-Gon and Oban had been nervous about the procedure but it had turned out to be something of an anticlimax. Oban had lain on the couch in Schal's office with the healer seated behind him while Qui-Gon held his hand and carefully monitored the procedure.  
  
Schal sought for disconnected pathways and then painstakingly either rerouted them or removed the blockage. After a time Qui-Gon lost all sense of direction in the dizzying multitude of possibilities that was Oban's mind. He continued to observe but he withdrew his attention slightly and concentrated on monitoring both the patient and the healer. Just as Qui-Gon was beginning to feel that he couldn't maintain his concentration any longer Schal gently disconnected and began to withdraw.  
  
If Qui-Gon was tired Schal was exhausted. When he emerged from Oban's thoughts Schal almost collapsed. Reassured that Oban was in no distress, Qui-Gon moved to help Schal from the tall stool on which he had been perched and ease him into his chair. Schal's first words were for his patient. "How is he, Qui?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled down at the healer. "He is fine Schal. I'm more worried about you."  
  
His voice a little stronger, Schal said, "It's just fatigue. I'll be fine when I have rested ... and eaten." He saw the question in Qui- Gon's eyes and said reassuringly. "It went well, but it is extremely tedious and painstaking work. I have made a start but that's all."  
  
"Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon turned to see that Oban was sitting up, looking remarkable relaxed and refreshed. "You look as though you have just woken from a nap, Obi."  
  
Oban looked from the exhausted healer to his master. "That's how I feel. What happened?"  
  
Schal smiled, "I have repaired some of the damage but there is a great deal left to do. If you two would care to let me get some rest I will contact you this afternoon."  
  
Qui-Gon held his hand out to Oban. "We should leave him. I know better than to argue with Master Schal." Turning to Schal, "Do you want to see us tomorrow?"  
  
Schal nodded, "Yes. Probably for a counselling session. I think I may need more time to recover before I do more internal work."  
  
As they were leaving the healers wing they were joined by Mace Windu. "Ah, Qui-Gon, Oban, I'm glad I caught you. Are you going back to your quarters? I'll walk with you."  
  
Qui-Gon gave the councillor a long, flat stare then nodded, and the three men fell into step together.  
  
Oban was between the two Jedi, uncomfortably aware of the curious stares they were attracting. He kept his eyes lowered and edged closer to his master thankful for the familiar surge of reassurance. The Jedi were calmly discussing Temple matters but Oban could feel the wry amusement coming from his master and the curiosity from Master Windu.  
  
Mace was watching Oban as they walked. The young man had a truly formidable Force signature and unexpectedly strong shields for someone with so little training. His demeanour was also unexpected. The councillor admitted to himself that he had some preconceptions about what a pleasure slave would be like and he certainly hadn't expected this grave and dignified young man. If Qui- Gon's assessments were accurate, and he had no reason to doubt them, there were the makings of a fine Jedi in Oban even if he never fully regained his memories.  
  
Turning his attention back to Qui-Gon, Mace said abruptly, "I heard about your intruders. Their masters have reported to the Council. We were extremely displeased to hear that our padawans would behave in such a discourteous and unprincipled manner." He smiled wryly, "Your restraint was commendable."  
  
Qui-Gon grimaced, "I didn't feel very restrained. I wanted to flay them."  
  
"Understandable, but I'm glad you didn't." Mace said drily. "The boys will be disciplined and you will both be receiving a formal apology. And I understand there will be a new class on respecting the privacy of others." He paused, "I don't know if the gossips would be happier for you to be a long-lost padawan, Oban, or Master Jinn's personal pleasure slave."  
  
Qui-Gon could sense Oban's reply. "Don't say it, Obi. What is the Council's line, Mace?"  
  
"We have made it known that you rescued a Force user and that he is staying with you while he recovers." They had reached the Star Plaza, a busy, circular chamber where several central corridors converged. "Keep me informed of your progress, Qui-Gon. I have asked Master Stanell to contact you regarding classes."  
  
Master Stanell was the current head of the intermediate padawan program. Surprised, Qui-Gon thanked Mace and watched for a moment as the Councillor headed off towards the Council chambers. The murmur of voices around them drew his attention back to Oban and they turned to enter the elevator.  
  
Oban gave a small sigh of relief when they reached their quarters and the door slid shut behind them. He was a little unsettled by the session with Schal and the leisurely walk through the corridors with the Councillor had left him feeling exposed. He was startled to feel his master's hands removing his robe and reached to take it from him. "Let me, Master."  
  
"Relax, Obi. I know you felt as though you were on display but it was Master Windu's way of showing that you have the Council's support and approval." Qui-Gon threw the robes over the back of a chair. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Yes, a bit. What should I get, Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon shrugged, "Whatever you feel like. I think there is fresh bread ... you might like to heat up that soup we had last night."  
  
He sank into a chair and let the tension seep out of his body. This morning's session had worried him more than he'd known.  
  
Oban brought two large mugs and a plate of bread and sat on the floor in front of his master, happily leaning back to rest against the Jedi's long legs as he sipped the broth.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled down at the young man. He could not recall ever feeling so at ease in another's company. Oban was a warm, vibrant presence that lit his body and his mind. The Jedi brushed his fingers through Oban's hair, "How do you feel, Obi?"  
  
The youth tipped his head back and pressed a kiss into the large palm. "I feel good. I was worried about what Master Schal was going to do, but it's all right."  
  
Rubbing the back of his hand along Oban's cheek, Qui-Gon asked, "Can you remember any more?"  
  
Oban shook his head, "Not really, but it feels a bit less confusing." He felt his master enquiring at the edge of his thoughts and opened his shields, "See."  
  
Qui-Gon slid delicately through the offered emotions and nodded, "He's begun to put the muddle into some sort of order." He shied away from the emerging bond between them. Not yet ready to admit that such a bond was forming and not wanting to frighten the lad he told himself to wait. Oban was watching him with a questioning stare. "I have the training room booked. Do you feel up to exercise?" Shaking his head as the young man hurried to change, Qui-Gon headed for his room and mused on the unbounded energy of youth.  
  
When they entered the training complex Qui-Gon checked which galleries were empty and took Oban to view some of the other training sessions. The young man was fascinated by what he saw, especially a group of initiates being drilled by their teacher. Qui-Gon smiled at the intense expression that came over the young man's face. "Remind you of something?"  
  
Oban nodded, never taking his eyes from the children, "Master Telvak. This was my favourite class."  
  
"I think it's everyone's favourite." Qui-Gon moved to another window, "Come over here, Obi. I'd like you to see this." A senior padawan was doing 'sabre practice with her master. Oban moved to join his master and gave a small gasp. He had seen the lightsabre hilt clipped on his master's belt but thought nothing of it. Now as he watched the pair advance and retreat, their 'sabres crackling and flashing through the air he felt as though a piece of a puzzle had slid into place.  
  
Qui-Gon felt the recognition flow through Oban, and the hunger. Then the other man's eyes dimmed and pleasure was replaced with sorrow. He put a comforting hand on Oban's shoulder, "What is it, Obi?"  
  
"My 'sabre...I lost it." The dismay was palpable.  
  
Qui-Gon's hand tightened, "I know." He wanted to say  
  
*You'll build another* but he was unsure of the Council's ultimate decision. Keeping his hand firmly on Oban's shoulder he steered him to their training room.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon emerged from the bathroom a towel around his shoulders as he worked a comb through his long, damp hair. Oban was curled up on the sofa reading. The Jedi was once again surprised by the pleasure he felt just seeing the young man so relaxed and at home in his rooms. He mused on the companionship he had lost with his previous determination not to allow another padawan into his life. No doubt Yoda would tell him it was the Force keeping the place clear for Oban to fill. It was irritating how often Yoda was right.  
  
He made cha for them both and went to sit beside Oban, noting that he was reading a section about lightsabres. During their afternoon training Qui-Gon had used the training staves and found, not at all to his surprise, that Oban was familiar with and skilled in the basic forms.  
  
Oban smiled as he accepted the cha and opened his mouth to speak then changed his mind and bent his head over the reader again. Sensing the hovering question Qui-Gon said, "What do you want to know, Obi?"  
  
Hitching his shoulder Oban replied, "It's nothing, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon took hold of Oban's chin and turned it to face him. "You can ask me, Obi. Anything ... anytime."  
  
Hesitantly Oban said, "Those exercises today were 'sabre drills." When his master nodded he continued, "Does that mean I will have a lightsabre?"  
  
"I don't know. It depends on the Council, but I believe you should be allowed to continue your training as a Jedi ... if that is what you wish." Qui-Gon asked quietly, "*Is* that what you want?"  
  
Oban's eyes flickered down to the reader in his hand and back up to his master's face. "I think so, Master. I can remember so many things now from when I was little, and they all involve the Temple and classes and other children." A frown was forming between his eyes. "But I still don't remember *me*."  
  
Qui-Gon smoothed a finger over the frown, "It's early days, Obi. You have only just started to work with Master Schal." The hand moved to caress Oban's cheek and the young man turned to lean against his shoulder. Qui-Gon held him. "I think that you will remember who you were but even if you don't at least you do remember the life you led."  
  
It was true. Every day Oban found himself doing and knowing things that he didn't remember learning. He relaxed against the warm, strong torso letting the reader slip from his fingers. He closed his eyes and wallowed in the comfort of being held. In a life time of physical contact he had almost never been touched with affection. He found he craved the simple comfort and reassurance that being close to his master gave him.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled down at the tawny head resting over his heart. It constantly amazed him how trusting the ex-slave was, and how open in his emotions. His hand began moving over Oban's back, tracing shoulders and sliding firmly down the long curve of the spine. He felt Oban melt closer to him and tightened his hold, bending to press his lips into the soft hair. He could feel Oban's happiness but there was also a slight tension.  
  
The Jedi rested his cheek against Oban's head and asked softly, "What is it? What's wrong, Obi?"  
  
At the soft words Oban tensed briefly, then relaxed again and shook his head, running his hand across his master's chest.  
  
"Tell me." Qui-Gon felt Oban's shields firm. "Please, Obi. How can I help if I don't know what it is?" He tilted Oban's face so he could look into his eyes.  
  
Oban felt his face flushing. "It's nothing really. I was just wondering." He tried to look down but his master's fingers held him firmly.  
  
"What were you wondering?" Qui-Gon was gently insistent.  
  
"Why don't you ... " suddenly Oban found that he couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't ask *Why don't you fuck me?*.  
  
Couldn't say those words to the concerned, gentle man holding him. Qui-Gon looked into Oban's wide eyes, wondering what was bothering him when the other man dropped his shields. The image of Oban spread out on Qui-Gon's bed and the older man leaning over him and slowly sinking into his body shocked the Jedi to stillness. His body reacted, his heart began to pound and he was instantly hard. Oban felt his master's response. Pleased, he placed his hand over his master's cock. "You want to. Why don't you do it?" He leaned forward to kiss him.  
  
Qui-Gon shivered and returned Oban's kiss. "I didn't want to do anything that you didn't want."  
  
Oban took his master's hand and placed it over his own hardness. "I want."  
  
"Ah..." Qui-Gon gasped and his hand cupped Oban's erection as the young man's hand slid inside his trousers and curled around hard flesh. "Will you do something for me first?"  
  
Oban was engrossed in the feel of satiny skin beneath his fingers but he nodded, "Anything."  
  
Qui-Gon gently disengaged the questing hand and stood up. "Anything? That is a very dangerous offer, Obi. What if I want to do something you don't like?"  
  
Oban was raised to his feet and led towards the main bedroom. Unable to resist the temptation to touch his master he ran his hand down the long, elegant sweep of the Jedi's spine. "You won't do anything to hurt me," he said confidently as he was swept into his master's embrace.  
  
"I'll certainly try not to, but that's not what I asked." He hugged Oban close. "Obi, you must tell me if there is anything that you don't like. I only want to give you pleasure... make you feel good... I don't want you to let me do anything that doesn't feel good." He kissed Oban. "There are lots of ways to make love, if we don't like one way we can find another."  
  
Oban met his master's serious gaze. He didn't really understand what he was being asked, he was certain that this man would never do anything to hurt or humiliate him so what was his master talking about? Pushing the loose tunic off his master's shoulder he nodded, "Yes, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. Oban didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying. He had no concept of seeking his own pleasure or refusing his partner. Shifting his arms to allow his tunic to be removed Qui-Gon began to undo the laces at Oban's waist, sliding his hand under the fabric to caress smooth, supple skin.  
  
When they were naked Qui-Gon lay back on the bed pulling Oban on top of him. The young man wriggled, enjoying the slide of skin on skin and hissing as their cocks bumped and slid together. Qui-Gon ran his hand down Oban's back and let them rest on the young man's buttocks, kneading gently and holding their groins firmly pressed together. Oban's head fell forward until his forehead was inches from Qui-Gon's mouth. The Jedi lifted his head and began licking and kissing across eyebrows and down the straight nose.  
  
Oban shifted so that he could meet his master's mouth and they rolled until they were side by side, mouths locked together and legs entwined. Qui-Gon insinuated his hand between their bodies and cupped Oban's cock, pressing and rubbing gently as the younger man writhed against him. When he could feel the erotic pressure building Qui-Gon shifted onto his back again, lifting Oban so he lay between his thighs.  
  
His breath coming in ragged pants Oban looked down into his master's eyes. The big man was simply lying there, his hands running softly over Oban's arms and shoulders and his eyes alight with affection and desire. When he made no move, Oban's gaze became questioning.  
  
Qui-Gon whispered, "What do you want to do, Obi? I'm here for you. I want you. Take what you want."  
  
Oban shivered at the promise in the soft, husky voice. His master was stretched out beneath him, the long, powerful body sprawled across the dark bedcovers. Oban pushed himself up until he was kneeling between his master's spread thighs. The sight filled him with lust and gratitude. This was *his* master, deep in the privacy of his heart he added *his lover*, and he was offering himself to Oban. The ex-slave began to raise above his master and stopped when the Jedi widened his legs further and bent his knees.  
  
Seeing the shock in Oban's eyes Qui-Gon smiled as he reached for the little bottle of oil beside the bed. He poured the thick liquid into his hands and reached down to take hold of Oban's penis. The young man gasped and his hips thrust involuntarily into Qui- Gon's ministering hands. "Give me your hand, Obi," Qui-Gon murmured.  
  
In a daze Oban offered his hand and felt the slippery oil pool in his palm. He looked down at his master, a question in his eyes. "Do it, Obi." Qui-Gon ordered quietly.  
  
The soft growl sent Oban spinning. His master was still running long fingers over his cock and with his other hand he was urging Oban's hand between his legs. Oban couldn't take his eyes from the glorious sight of his master's head shifting restlessly on the pillow his gaze filled with need and trust. Sinking into the midnight eyes Oban let his hand glide over his master's erection, gently cupping his balls then tentatively moving to the exposed opening.  
  
"It is all right, Obi. I want you to do this." Qui-Gon reassured Oban, moved by the hesitant touch and the diffident query he sensed from the other man. He felt the gentle fingers slide over and around their goal and he sighed, "Please."  
  
Oban had done this before, but not often and not with anyone remotely like his master. He was overwhelmed by the trust and the sheer sensuality of this man laying himself open for him. He monitored the emotions coming from his master, sensing the delight as his fingers found their way inside and began to carefully stroke and probe.  _*More*_  ... he felt the plea in the Force even as his master was lifting his hips.  
  
Qui-Gon let all his desire and pleasure flow into the Force and into the tentative bond between them. Oban was touching him with such gentle, bashful hands, and his face was eloquent of such need and gratitude that Qui-Gon found his heart overflowing and his eyes filling with tears. Oban was watching him closely, judging when and how to move, trying to sense his master's desires. The care the youth was taking touched Qui-Gon and fuelled his desire. He angled his hips in invitation and gently guided Oban's phallus downwards. "I want you," Qui-Gon murmured reaching up to caress Oban's cheek. Then he tilted his hips and added, "Inside me, now."  
  
All his training and experience urged Oban to wait until he had instigated his master's orgasm but the touch of the older man's hands was shredding his control. Sensual words combined with a wave of lust pushed him over the edge and he leaned forward pressing carefully through the ring of muscle. His master's hands reached for his shoulders and drew him down to be thoroughly kissed. Buried deep in the heat of the strong body beneath him, his master's hands alternately soothing and exciting, Oban moaned into his master's mouth.  
  
Waiting while his body adjusted to the unfamiliar fullness Qui- Gon nibbled and licked at the young man's lips, and then delved inside to explore Oban's mouth. Feeling the tension quivering through Oban, Qui-Gon began to move his hips, using the leverage of his bent legs to make small thrusting motions, encouraging his lover to pick up the pace. "More."  
  
That was it. His master's enthusiasm triggered his own and Oban began to move. As he submerged himself in the sensation he could hear his master's deep, soft voice encouraging and pleading. The pleasure, both physical and emotional, spiralled and he locked eyes with his master, gasping and sobbing as he slammed home into the welcoming, beloved body.  
  
Qui-Gon tried to hold back as the flood of pleasure washed through him. He wanted to watch, to enjoy the beauty of the young man as he was overcome by his climax. The Jedi saw Oban's eyes turn smoky with lust and felt the electric touch on his prostate, then Oban went rigid shuddering as he poured his seed deep inside his master. Qui-Gon gathered Oban to him as the young man collapsed onto his chest. His own, still hard, cock was crushed between their bellies and the pressure triggered his own orgasm.  
  
The warm gush of his master's climax filled Oban with satisfaction and he kissed then nuzzled into the join between shoulder and neck. After a moment he slithered down and began to lap at the semen splashed on his master's body. A hand rested on his head and then urged him back up for another kiss.  
  
The kiss tasted of Oban and of sex. It was a wonderful mixture. Qui-Gon whispered, "Thank you." The cooling semen was sticky on both of them so Qui-Gon copied Oban and slid down to clean the young man's stomach. As his tongue licked downward he saw that Oban's penis was coming back to life. With a grin he returned to kiss Oban and murmur "Ah ... youth," as his hand closed around the renewed erection and began to move.  
  
"Master ... " Oban gasped then his master's mouth settled over his and all he could do was feel.  
  
This time Qui-Gon was able to watch, undistracted, as Oban's orgasm overtook him. The handsome young face grew taut with pleasure, then his eyes opened and found Qui-Gon's and his whole body shuddered and flexed as the storm ripped through him. Qui-Gon gathered Oban close, his arms wrapped around the other man and his lips against his temple. "Thank you, Obi ... thank you."  
  
Oban didn't understand why he was being thanked but he could feel his master's emotions, warmth and gratitude and pleasure, flowing into the Force and all directed at him. Tears filled his eyes and he pressed closer. "Master. *My* Master."  
  
"Yours, Obi," Qui-Gon agreed.  
  


* * *

  
  
Oban woke before dawn. It was dark, but the faint light from buildings and the ever present aircars filled the bedroom with a pale silver radiance. He had fallen asleep wrapped in his master's long arms but during the night they had separated a little. Oban woke with his back curled against the Jedi's side. He shifted slightly, turning to look at the man who lay sleeping beside him.  
  
His master was lying on his back, one arm flung out to drape over the side of the bed, the other bent up with the hand under the pillow Oban's head rested on. A sheet twisted around narrow hips partially exposing the Jedi's body. His master's skin, pale from being hidden under the Jedi robes, glowed softly in the predawn light.  
  
Oban moved closer, careful not to wake the other man. He ghosted his hand over the broad expanse of chest. His master's long hair was unbound and flowed across his shoulders, a cape of bronze silk shot with fine silver threads. Oban delicately nosed through the strands, relishing the sensuous feel and the fresh, spicy scent.  
  
He froze as his master moved but the other man only shifted in his sleep, reaching for Oban and drawing him close again. Oban sank into the embrace, half lying on his master's chest, one leg flung over the Jedi's longer limbs. Even in his sleep his master exuded calm and strength. Oban lay his brow against the Jedi's skin breathing in the essence of him. He wondered how he had survived without this warmth. He *would* be a padawan again, the companion and lover of Master Qui-Gon Jinn ... and if they wouldn't let him be a Jedi then he would remain his slave. After all he had been given to the Jedi, they were meant to be together.  
  
Oban rubbed his cheek against his master's shoulder, feeling the smooth, soft expanse of skin and the hard swell of muscle. He ran his lips over a network of faint scars that snaked down the Jedi's neck and crossed his breast. His eyes closed, he felt the Force vibrant between them and relaxed into its warmth. Last night he had been gifted with joy and acceptance. This man, this warrior, this Jedi Master had made the gift of his body ... and more ... the gift of his trust and his care. Oban relived the moment when he sank into the tight heat, poised over the beautiful hard body, drowning in eyes that spoke of joy and need. He had felt as though he was flying, held secure in the Force and the aura that was Qui-Gon Jinn.  
  
He let his fingers skim over his master's skin, barely touching, sensing the heat and the essence of the man. When he reached a nipple he let his fingertips play, enjoying the change in texture. His breath caught as his master sighed and leaned into his touch. His finger stroked one nipple and then moved to the other.  
  
Oban made a decision. He propped himself on an elbow and replaced his fingers with his mouth. Licking and biting gently he began to suckle, a happy sigh sending cool air over wet skin as his master's hand settled on his hip.  
  
Qui-Gon woke to bliss. A warm mouth was ravishing his nipple while silky hair brushed across his chest. "Obi," he sighed. The lithe body wriggled a little closer. Qui-Gon began to move and was held still by determined hands.  
  
Oban placed his palms on his master's chest, pushing the bigger man gently back on the pillows. "No, Master." He pressed an quick kiss on his master's sternum, then raised his head to meet the other man's eyes briefly worried by his bold impulse. But his master was watching him with a lazy sensuality that sent shivers through Oban and strengthened his determination. "Don't move." Holding the intense blue eyes he moved to straddle his master's hips and with a shy, sly smile bent to continue his examination of the body beneath him.  
  
Held still by Oban's tentative eroticism as much as the pressure of his hands, Qui-Gon lifted his own hand to caress Oban's chest. The young man took Qui-Gon's big hand in his smaller one and kissed the fingers before placing them on the bed. Qui-Gon watched as the ex-slave's hands ran over his body, felt the devotion and the gratitude. He was fascinated by the gentle resolve on the young man's grave face. "Oh, Obi ... " he began but was hushed by a brief kiss.  
  
"No, Master," he repeated firmly, "Let me." He ran his mouth across his master's lips, his nose, his high forehead before coming to rest against each eyelid.  
  
Qui-Gon felt his whole body relax, his muscles lax and heavy as the warm, damp mouth pressed against his eyes. He shifted his head to meet Oban's eyes again, smiling at the clear command in their depths. A wave of determined passion made him catch his breath. The Jedi returned the emotion, running a tendril of Force over Oban's sleek flank. He smiled at the startled question in the young man's eyes and leaned back, letting his head sink into the pillow and opening himself to his lover.  
  
Oban shivered in delight as the phantom caress slid across his flesh. He felt his master's acquiescence and savoured his aura. It was at once comforting and arousing and he bent to nuzzle into his master's long neck before sitting back and preparing his onslaught.  
  
With a quick touch of fingers to cheekbones and lips he murmured, "Be still," and returned to the exposed line of neck, kissing and licking his way down the length of his master's torso, lingering when he reached jutting hip bones and concave stomach. A quiver rippled through the body laid out for him. Oban stopped for a moment to lay his cheek against the taut belly, running his lips over satin soft skin before continuing his survey of his master's body.  
  
Sitting back Oban worked down his master's thighs and calves, massaging and occasionally leaning down to plant a kiss or lick or gentle bite. When he had taken each foot in his hand and fondled then, his touch just this side of tickling, he sat back. "Turn over please, Master." Holding his breath he watched the powerful body move at his request, a flick of the Jedi's head sending his hair tumbling across one shoulder as he turned his face towards Oban.  
  
Qui-Gon was on the knife edge between bliss and frustration. He wanted to push into the questing hands but Oban wanted him still, so still he would be. Firm, tantalizing hands began to explore his back, testing muscles, tracing a lifetime of scars, resting warm against his skin as Oban's mouth followed his hands. It was almost like meditation, he was surrounded by the Force and by Oban's aura, warm and beguiling. The heat of passion was being raised slowly and with care. It drifted between them, a sparkling and fluid twining with the Force that swirled around them.  
  
He was being touched with a reverent hunger. A soft brush over Oban's mind was met with a mental caress and a happy sigh. Qui-Gon lifted his hips into Oban's touch.  
  
The young man murmured, "Don't move," and continued his trek, drawing his tongue down his master's spine. When he reached the end he paused softly kissing the smooth swell of buttock.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed Oban's hesitation. With a wicked grin he sent a suggestion and chuckled softly at Oban's gasp. As he squirmed into the tightening fingers Qui-Gon grabbed the second pillow and wedged it under his hips.  
  
Oban shifted, pressing against his master's back as he reached for the oil bottle. Suddenly he needed to be inside his master again. Last night he had been so amazed and overwhelmed that he had acted blindly, this morning he intended to savour the experience. He kissed the small of his master's back and then moved lower, pressing fleeting lips and a flickering tongue to the sensitive cleft.  
  
With careful hands he poured the sweet oil, watching as it slithered across the Jedi's skin and spreading the viscous fluid with loving fingers. The silver of night was being replaced with the rosy gold of dawn and Oban found his eyes fixed on the gleam of oiled skin as he repeated the process with his own flesh. When he looked up he saw the burning indigo of his master's eyes devouring him.  
  
Oban breathed, "Master," and began to fondle and probe. He heard his moans echoed by his lover and he grabbed the big hand that was reaching for him. Wanting to take this slow but burning to experience the ecstatic heat again Oban let himself be urged forward. His master's legs shifted apart. Oban took hold of narrow hips and settled between muscular thighs. "I want you, Master."  
  
Oban's cultured voice was husky with need. Qui-Gon let out a long, shuddering sigh as his world narrowed to clever hands, the inexorable press of hard flesh and a warm wash of passion and devotion.  
  
Qui-Gon was pressing back against him, welcoming, demanding, sensual. Oban's fingers dug into his master's hips as he threw his head back and hissed "Yes".  
  


* * *

  
  
After separate showers and a quick breakfast, they made their way to Schal's office. The ex-slave pacing at Qui-Gon's side, hands buried in the sleeves of his robe, posture and expression solemn, eyes downcast. They were greeted by the Jedi they passed. Qui-Gon nodded in reply, pleased to note that Oban was attracting only a little mild curiosity.  
  
As usual Qui-Gon went to wait for Oban in the little anteroom where he found Master Stanell waiting for him. The petite training master smiled up at him, and he bowed and sat opposite her. "Master Stanell, I take it you are here to talk about Oban?"  
  
She nodded, "Yes, Mace suggested I consult with Healer Schal before I discuss the young man's education with you. I'm told Oban has not retrieved his memories?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled sadly, "Not all of them, no. He recalls being in the Temple but he has no memory of who he was."  
  
Stanell nodded again, "So Schal said. The Council believes he should resume his training." She paused, "He could join the other padawans for classes but I'm inclined to think it might be better if he had individual tuition, at least until the future is decided."  
  
Qui-Gon agreed, Oban was bound to be an object of speculation amongst the padawans, he needed to be introduced to Temple life gradually not tossed into a class with a dozen padawans years younger than him. He asked, "Will you tutor him?"  
  
"Yes ... until I have evaluated his academic capability and needs. Then I may enlist some other teachers although I will probably continue to tutor him as well." She smiled, "I remember Obi-Wan Kenobi, you know. I sometimes take the junior philosophy class. Obi-Wan was an a charming boy ... and an outstanding student."  
  
"He still has the charm," Qui-Gon said ruefully.  
  
Master Stanell placed a hand on Qui-Gon's knee in brief support. "There is no reason why he shouldn't be a good student again. He is still the same person."  
  
"It's been nine years ... and I don't think that academic studies were a major part of his life in the harem." Qui-Gon said dryly.  
  
"Well, Schal has confidence in him, as does Master Yoda ... even Mace Windu has been won over. Let me do an assessment. I'm sure he will be able to catch up given time and work."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled into the teacher's earnest eyes. "Thank you, Vel."  
  
As she stood the teacher said, "Let me know when would be convenient. I have classes in the mornings but most afternoons and evenings are free." Master Stanell inclined her head, "Master Jinn," and left him to wait for Oban to finish with Master Schal.  
  
As he waited Qui-Gon relaxed and allowed his mind to be filled with the Force. He thought over the events of the morning and the previous night. Oban's gentle possession and his tender control this morning had cleared Qui-Gon's mind of any doubt. He was meant to be with this young man, the Force sang between them and Qui-Gon's heart and soul ... not to mention his body ... craved the young man's touch. He let his anxiety go and simply rested in the Force until he sensed Oban's entry to the small room.  
  
Oban was quiet as they returned to their quarters. Qui- Gon smiled inwardly at the young man's slightly self-conscious demeanour. He moderated his pace so that he was walking beside the younger man and could place a reassuring hand in Oban's shoulder.  
  
As they entered their quarters Oban took his master's robe and hung it with his own. He turned to see the other man disappearing into the kitchen. Master Schal had listened to his hesitant recital of the night's events with a grave courtesy. He reassured Oban that not only would his master not have initiated the encounter last night unless he had wanted it, but that his compliance this morning was a sign of the older man's acceptance and trust. Still Oban was worried that he had overstepped his place and displeased his master.  
  
Qui-Gon returned to find Oban standing immobile in the centre of the room. The young man's eyes glowed aquamarine in the filtered light as he met Qui-Gon's gaze with a shy smile and a faint blush. Qui-Gon put down the plates and went to him.  
  
Taking the handsome face between his hands Qui-Gon kissed Oban's forehead then dipped to kiss his mouth. He felt Oban sigh with relief and sink into his embrace. Meeting Oban's rush of devotion with his own affection, for the first time Qui-Gon delicately reached for Oban through the nascent link.  
  
Oban felt his master's presence intensify and deepen. The vague sense of the Jedi in his mind seemed to coalesce into a radiant glow that bathed his consciousness. The sense of connection was almost physical. Curious, Oban tried to follow the connection but was unable to maintain control and frowned as the sensation slipped away from him.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed his frustration. With a final kiss to Oban's forehead he said, "Don't fret, Obi. Control of the Force is like control of the body. You have been away from the Temple for a long time, you're out of practice. We'll work on it."  
  
As he helped his master set the table Oban watched the older man's face and sent out a tentative query. When his master smiled reassuringly Oban asked, "It felt different, as though there was a connection. What was it, Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon handed Oban a plate and said, "When Force users are close a connection forms between them." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either.  
  
Oban was watching him closely, head tilted and a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Is it permanent, Master?"  
  
Loath to twist the truth any further but unwilling to articulate his suspicions, Qui-Gon said carefully, "It can be. It depends on the nature of the relationship and the depth of the connection." He smiled, "If there is a bond forming, it is the will of the Force and will reveal itself in time."  
  
Clearly unsatisfied, Oban obeyed the unspoken command and swallowed his questions. "Yes, Master."  
  


* * *

  
  
Master Stanell's evaluation of Oban's academic needs and abilities resulted in evening classes being added to the ex-slave's daily routine. For the evaluation and first class Qui-Gon remained in room but Oban's initial shyness quickly dispersed and his natural charm and cheerful disposition came to the surface.  
  
Since returning to Coruscant with Oban, Qui-Gon had been almost continually in the young man's presence. The classes with Master Stanell allowed him time to himself. When he asked Oban whether he minded being left alone with the teacher Oban had simply shaken his head. Qui-Gon took the opportunity on the third evening of visiting first Master Yoda to update him on Oban's progression, and then to visit Knights Eletha and Frensam.  
  
His old friends greeted him warmly. Shay Eletha handed him a glass of Corellian brandy as Ti Frensam said, "Are we allowed to ask about your visitor?"  
  
Qui-Gon sipped the fiery liquid and smiled, "There isn't much to tell really. I'm sure the gossip is much more exciting than the reality."  
  
Shay grinned, "Isn't it always? So you didn't bring your own pleasure slave back with you?"  
  
"Is that what they're saying?"  
  
Shay nodded and Ti elaborated, "There are two stories doing the rounds. One is the slave thing ... the other is that you have rescued a long-lost padawan."  
  
"Actually, it's a bit of both." And Qui-Gon proceeded to give his friends an outline of what happened.  
  
Shay poured them all another drink, saying slowly, "Poor lad. Do you think he will ever remember?"  
  
Qui-Gon shrugged, "Who he is? I don't know. But I do think he will remember enough to be able to rejoin us."  
  
Ti shifted in her seat, "I saw the pair of you walking with Master Windu. He is a nice looking young man. He certainly carries himself like a Jedi."  
  
Shay added, "But will the Council let him stay? It would take you out of the field."  
  
"No more than if I took another initiate as padawan." Qui-Gon smiled at the interest and concern in his friend's eyes.  
  
"I'll introduce you when he is more at ease with strangers. I don't want to overwhelm him. Apart from me, Master Stanell is the first person he's been alone with except for Schal and Yoda since we got here."  
  
Both the knights smiled and Shay said, "We look forward to meeting him." Giving Qui-Gon a quizzical look he asked, "Do you want us to say anything? I'm sure someone saw you as you came here and there are bound to be questions."  
  
Qui-Gon put down the empty glass, "How well you know me, Shay. If anyone asks, tell them the truth."  
  
Ti raised her eyebrows, "About him being a slave?" Qui-Gon looked from one to the other, "It will have to come out sooner or later."  
  
The couple looked at each other and Shay said, "I think we'll just say that you rescued him, after all it's no one else's business."  
  
Ti nodded, "And if they ask if he's Padawan Kenobi ... " She paused, "We can't very well say you don't know. How many padawans have gone missing in the past decade, after all?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "I know, that's one of the reasons I have kept him more or less out of sight. Schal says it would be better for him to remember on his own." He sighed and rubbed his nose, "If he doesn't remember soon I think we will have to tell him, but until then it would only confuse him to be asked about someone he doesn't know. The best thing is probably to say that he is still receiving treatment from Healer Schal and leave it at that." He stood, "I'd better get back."  
  
The two knights nodded. Then each hugged him, "It's good to see you, Qui. Perhaps we will see more of you if you have a padawan in tow."  
  
On his way back to his quarters Qui-Gon smiled, it was good to see his friends but they were right in thinking he had ulterior motives. Gossip always flourished in the absence of facts. He hoped that Eletha and Frensam's comments would help to damp down the more lurid speculation. Somewhat to his surprise, Qui-Gon was finding himself increasingly protective of Oban. The knowledge that there was salacious and possibly damaging gossip about the lad pleased him not at all.  
  


* * *

  
  
Oban closed the door after Master Stanell left and made himself a mug of caf. He welcomed the lessons with the teacher even though it meant that he had even less time to himself. The reading he had been doing had whetted his appetite and he found that he enjoyed having someone else to talk to. Not that he was bored with his master but it was another perspective and he found himself looking forward to future classes with other teachers.  
  
He curled onto the sofa and considered his new life. More and more he felt at home in the Temple, and particularly in these quarters. Master Schal was alternating between counselling and sessions when they worked on repairing his memory. Oban had initially feared this process but with his master's reassuring presence and his trust of the healer he now looked forward to them.  
  
All his training was focussed on making him ready to resume his life as a padawan. Although Oban still had no idea *who* he had been, he was increasingly sure that he *had* been a child here. Besides, if he was allowed to be a padawan he could stay with his master.  
  
A slight frown drew his eyebrows together as he thought over the past few days. His master was supportive and affectionate, and Oban had no doubt that the older man desired him, but he was so reserved. Although he knew that he wouldn't be rejected Oban had not taken his master again, much as he had wanted to. Their lovemaking was intense and tender but his master always seemed to be restraining himself. Or perhaps it was just that he didn't feel the same hunger.  
  
Oban wanted his master to be overwhelmed by love and need just as he was himself. He wanted the other man to be swept away by his passion, to be overcome by an irresistible desire, to shed his control. Slow, gentle sex was wonderful but Oban wanted to be taken with a wild, unrestrained passion, to be surrounded and possessed by the tall, strong body. He wanted all the intense hunger he sensed in the Jedi focussed on him and the spiral of love and lust they were generating.  
  
He knew there was fire in the Jedi, could sense it in the touch of his hands, feel the smoulder of controlled desire in his aura, see it simmering in his deep, indigo eyes. The question was how to fan the fire to a blaze. As Oban sipped his caf his expression turned thoughtful. Oban knew his master was unwilling to hurt him and that he was still uneasy with his desire for him because of his past as a pleasure slave.  
  
Oban found the concern for his well being deeply touching but the sexual reticence faintly absurd. He padded to the kitchen to refill his mug adding a slurp of brandy to the mixture. Settling back on the sofa he sipped at the hot liquid and meditated on the ways a pleasure slave could convince a Jedi master to shed his reserve.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon was greeted by the gentle, pulsing rhythm of Hryll Court music as he pushed open the door to his quarters. The main ceiling light was off and the common room was filled with the soft glow of the wall lamps. Pleased to see that Oban felt sufficiently comfortable to make himself at home Qui-Gon looked towards the sofa expecting to see the young man curled up reading. Instead he was halted mid-step by the sight of Oban highlighted against the velvet glitter of the Coruscant skyline bare chested and glistening.  
  
Dressed only in Qui-Gon's old training pants the young man was working through a routine that combined athleticism with elegant sensuality. Qui-Gon froze, his robe forgotten in his hands. Not pausing in his movements Oban sent a caress of welcome through the Force. Qui-Gon returned the greeting as he went to hang up his robe and shed his outer tunic. The image of the youthful body danced seductively behind his eyes.  
  
Collecting a glass of mulled cider Qui-Gon sat at his desk to check his mail and watch Oban. The routine was a cross between a workout and a dance. Oban was moving in time to the music, allowing the sensuous rhythms to dictate his tempo. The movements themselves were graceful and poised, showing the beauty of the dancer's body and highlighting his agility and control. Qui-Gon recognised elements of Jedi training in some of the movements while others had to do with carnal rather than martial skills.  
  
Yet as provocative as the performance was it was clearly a personal routine, designed to hone Oban's balance and flexibility rather than inflame an audience. Oban's mind was relaxed and focussed on his task. Although he was aware of Qui-Gon's presence there were no flirtatious glances, no overtly seductive poses or gestures. The Jedi was rivetted, his mail forgotten, the cider cooling in his hand.  
  
When the music stopped Oban flicked the hair out of his eyes and headed for the bathroom. His master had returned right on cue and his reaction had been everything that Oban had hoped for. *Well not quite everything*, he thought as he ran a towel over his sweaty torso, *he could have flung me onto the sofa and ravished me*. Oban grinned at his reflection. Well, it was early yet and his master's desire had been quite obvious.  
  
Oban tossed aside the towel. He picked up a tub of lightly scented massage cream and smoothed it over his skin. Next he chose a vial of oil and spread it generously over his quiescent genitals. Smearing the oil over two fingers he reached behind to carefully anoint and prepare himself. Then he pulled the pants back up to his hips and tied the cord around them. Considering his reflection again he took his nipples between his fingers and pinched them to hard peaks while biting colour into his lips. Finally he poured more oil into his left palm and headed out to his master.  
  
Oban padded quietly across the common room to the kitchen. He drank a glass of water then followed his master's example and heated a mug of cider. When he returned to the common room, he was pleased to see that his master had moved to the sofa.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed Oban's return to the room and smiled at him laying aside the dataslate. "How did the lesson go, Obi?"  
  
Oban leaned against the back of a chair, "It went well, Master. I like working with Master Stanell."  
  
"She is a gifted teacher." Qui-Gon's eyes ran down the slender body draped casually against the tall chair. "We are lucky that she is available."  
  
It was astonishing how alluring an old, worn pair of training pants could look. Oban had adjusted the length so they no longer needed to be rolled up at the ankle, instead they lapped over the arches of his feet and just touched the floor at his heels. The waist hadn't been altered and the pants were still held up with the cord Qui-Gon had given him for that purpose. At the moment they were resting low on Oban's hip bones giving the impression that they might slip even lower at any moment.  
  
Oban watched his master's eyes darken and felt the shift in the tone of the other man's thoughts. He walked slowly towards the sofa holding his master's eyes as he sank to the floor between the Jedi's long legs and rested against one knee. "Will you still discuss my reading with me, Master?"  
  
The simple question took Qui-Gon by surprise. Oban's cultured voice was light and casual but his eyes glowed with passion. Qui-Gon found himself running his fingers through the young man's soft hair, "Of course I will."  
  
Rolling his head into the caress Oban let his shields thin. Desire was sparking between them and he leaned forward, head tilted in invitation to his master. For a moment the fingers stilled then Oban was caught between his masters hands and lifted until he was lying against the other man's chest. The moment stretched as navy eyes met smoky blue then his master was feasting on his mouth. Oban sighed in satisfaction and opened his mouth to the onslaught.  
  
Qui-Gon was drowning in the taste of Oban as agile hands slid inside his clothing. One was fondling his chest while the other found his hardening phallus and stroked him with a slick, insistent grasp.  
  
Oban felt strong hands grasp his waist and used the movement to settle himself astride his master. The position meant he was looking down into the other man's face. He bent to take a long, slow kiss, rubbing his lips across the spiky, soft hair of the Jedi's beard. Fumbling to untie the cord from his waist, he pushed the training pants down, wiggling and shifting as the fabric caught at his knees.  
  
The sensation of Oban writhing in his lap made Qui-Gon gasp. His head tilted back to lie against the cushions, his eyes fixed on Oban. The young man was raised above him, his torso gleaming slightly in the soft light, his face tight with concentration. One hand was on Qui-Gon's shoulder as Oban steadied himself, the other was holding Qui-Gon's cock. Qui-Gon's gasp became a shuddering moan as Oban positioned himself and sank slowly onto him.  
  
Oban's eyes returned to his master's. Holding the midnight gaze he lowered himself and languidly rotated his hips. He could see the shock and the pleasure ripple through the Jedi. With a murmur of contentment he settled against his master's hips, the hard bulk inside him filling him physically and emotionally. He picked up his master's hand and kissed the palm, holding it against his cheek as he began to rise and fall in a slow undulating motion.  
  
Qui-Gon was suspended between the intense pleasure Oban was giving him and the glow of love and happiness in the expressive eyes. He sighed, "Obi," and ran his thumb over the young man's lower lip, smiling as it was caught between even, white teeth. His other hand dropped to cradle Oban's erection, the skin soft and hot in his hand. A drop of fluid pearled at the tip and Qui-Gon spread it sensuously over the silky head. Oban took the hand in his and spread what little oil was left then their joined hands returned to Oban's cock and began to stroke.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled Oban's head closer and kissed him hard. He let himself be surrounded by Oban, the taste and the smell and the feel of him. Let himself be overcome with pleasure and began to thrust, his hips lifting the smaller man and triggering Oban's climax. The tawny head was thrown back in abandon. A keening wail rose from the elegant throat as his whole body shook and warm semen splashed between them. With a final thrust Qui-Gon groaned and came deep inside the young body slumped above him.  
  
They stayed joined together, arms wrapped around each other, heads resting together, enjoying the aftermath. When Qui-Gon tried to move Oban protested and wriggled closer. Qui-Gon stroked the bright hair, smiling to himself at the picture they presented. Oban was naked but for the training pants that were twisted around one leg while he was still mostly clothed, his tunic and trousers merely pushed apart to allow Oban access.  
  
With a little help from the Force Qui-Gon stood, lifting Oban with him. The young man wrapped his legs around him and they went to the bathroom. Qui-Gon had to clutch at his trousers as he moved to avoid the pair of them landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Oban was nuzzling into his neck and refused to let go when he tried to set him down. "Obi, I'd like to shower. You are more than welcome to join me but you need to let go."  
  
Oban rejoiced at the affectionate teasing in his master's voice. With a final kiss he unwound his legs and grumbled, "Don't want to let go."  
  


* * *

  
  
The next morning they began the day with meditation as usual. Oban settled easily into a trance and Qui-Gon smiled a little smugly at the sated contentment radiating from the young man. They were working on an intermediate focussing exercise and Qui-Gon left Oban kneeling on the mat while he checked his morning mail and prepared breakfast.  
  
There was an invitation to dinner for them both from Eletha and Frensam, a request for a meeting with Councillors Windu and Gallia and a request from Schal for a private meeting. Qui-Gon suggested to Schal that they meet while Oban had his evening lesson with Master Stanell, then he replied to his friends and the councillors saying that he would make a time after he had spoken to the healer.  
  
The day progressed along its usual lines. It was Schal's day for counselling Oban so Qui-Gon used the time to speak to Yoda and place an order with the commissary. As usual he was waiting when they finished. Schal called him in to confirm their appointment for the evening.  
  
Qui-Gon raised a questioning eyebrow, "Is it anything I should worry about?"  
  
Schal shook his head, "I just thought that you may need to speak to someone." He tapped his finger on the desk. "Qui- Gon, I know you have been giving Oban information about the history of the Jedi and the organization ... what about the people?"  
  
"Individuals?" Qui-Gon asked. "Only in the historical and political sense."  
  
The healer nodded, "I was wondering whether his memory might be jogged by holos of people he used to know."  
  
Qui-Gon told the healer about the time Oban had been studying the group of young padawans, "He recognised everyone but himself."  
  
"I think it's worth a try. You've got his training records, I'll send you his personal ones too." Schal grinned at Qui-Gon, "After all, if he's going to be your padawan you should have them anyway." He waved Qui-Gon to the door. "I'll see you this evening."  
  
As they returned to their rooms Qui-Gon considered the healers suggestion. He hadn't considered it before but all of Oban's returning memories did seem to be of places and events. Although he knew the names of the other padawans in the holo Oban had not shown the slightest interest in them as individuals. And neither had he shown any interest in finding out more about other faces and names he recalled.  
  
Over the meal Qui-Gon asked Oban, "Do you remember that holo of the group of padawans, Obi?"  
  
"The one were I knew them all?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "Yes, do you remember anything about them?"  
  
Oban looked surprised. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. Why?"  
  
"Master Schal thought it might help you remember your own past." He smiled at the honest amazement on the young man's face. "You remember their names, perhaps you can also remember other things about them."  
  
Oban frowned in concentration then shook his head, "I don't think so."  
  
"Don't worry about it." Qui-Gon recommended, "Master Schal thought it might help if you read some information about your year mates and looked at more pictures."  
  
Oban stared at his master over his glass of juice and said slowly, "You know who I am."  
  
Qui-Gon met the question in the wide, solemn eyes and answered slowly, "Yes. I do." He reached to take Oban's hand and was relieved when the young man didn't pull away.  
  
"Are you going to tell me, Master?" Oban's fingers curled around his master's.  
  
The absence of reproach in Oban's voice and the trust in his eyes brought a lump to Qui-Gon's throat. "Master Schal says that if we tell you, you will never truly remember for yourself."  
  
Oban considered that, "But I might never remember. How long will you wait?" He asked simply, "Will you ever tell me?"  
  
Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "Of course we will, Obi."  
  
The lack of criticism in the youth's eyes filled the Jedi with guilt.  
  
"I suppose it is up to Master Schal, he is your healer, but if it becomes apparent that you are not going to remember then..." he broke off, horrified by the realisation of the extent to which they were manipulating Oban's life.  
  
Dismayed by the distress in his master's eyes Oban stood and hugged the other man. Resting his cheek on his master's head he said softly, "It's all right, master. I trust you."  
  
Qui-Gon turned in his chair. He looked up into the trusting face and said earnestly, "You *will* know who you are Obi."  
  
Oban took his master's face between his hands and said, "My name doesn't matter. What matters is that I am with you." Sliding his arms around his master's waist he knelt and whispered, "I love you, Master."  
  
Oban's shining head was resting on his thigh but Qui- Gon heard the faint words. He kissed the young man's soft hair and then lifted Oban to his feet pouring his affection through the Force. Although he didn't utilise their bond he could feel it quiver and strengthen between them. "You matter, Obi." He could see the question in Oban's eyes. "And so do your wishes. There will be a place for you here as long as you want it."  
  
"But do you want me?" As soon as the words left his mouth Oban wished them back. "I'm sorry, Master. It's not my place to ask." For the first time since he had arrived at the Temple Oban felt the urge to prostrate himself before his master. Knowing his master didn't like him to abase himself Oban lowered his head.  
  
As he saw the young body slump Qui-Gon stood and gathered Oban into a fierce embrace, "Yes, I want you, Obi."  
  
He felt Oban return his hug, burrowing closer. After a few minutes Qui-Gon took hold of Oban's shoulders and held him at arms length. "And I want to help you to build your new life."  
  
Oban looked into the Jedi's intense gaze and nodded. "Thank you, Master." He knew that his master did enjoy his company, that he cared for him and certainly that he desired him, but Oban didn't know where he fitted into a Jedi's life. He could not really believe that they would let him, a pleasure slave, be trained as a Jedi himself. Still it was looking increasingly as though he could remain with his master. And he knew instinctively that this man would never abandon him. He smiled and kissed the hand resting on his shoulder.  
  
Once again Qui-Gon found himself at a loss. He could tell that Oban didn't really understand his motivations. With an inward sigh Qui-Gon wondered whether he understood them himself. He was overwhelmingly attracted to the lad, he was fond of him, cared for him and had every intention of taking him as his padawan learner, but he was still disturbed by the innocence and blind trust Oban displayed.  
  
He ruffled his fingers through Oban's hair, "Time for some exercise."  
  


* * *

Qui-Gon sank into the chair and sighed, "Your timing is impeccable, Schal. If we didn't have an appointment for this evening I would have called to ask for one."

The healer took in the tense line of Qui-Gon's shoulder's and the worried expression in the normally serene eyes.

"Frankly Qui-Gon, I'm surprised you haven't asked to see me before this. You are taking on a huge load, reintroducing Oban to freedom and to being a Jedi. And becoming his lover as well." Schal watched as Qui-Gon's head snapped up. "I'm not criticising. I'm just saying you are his only support and it's a very heavy burden for one man to carry. Especially when you care so much for him."

Qui-Gon stared at Schal, then he shook his head ruefully, "I should have known you would see right through me. And I'm not his only support ... he trusts you too."

"That's good to hear." Schal poured two cups of herbal tea and handed one to Qui-Gon. "Fortunately I think you're right. And the lessons with Vel Stanell will help too. We need to slowly introduce more people to him ... reintegrate him into the Temple." He smiled, "But ... this evening I want to talk about you, Master Jinn. How are you coping?"

"If you'd asked me yesterday I would have said I was coping rather well." Qui-Gon rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. "Apart from my reservations about the sexual aspects of the relationship anyway."

Schal waited for more then asked, "What changed today?"

"He asked me if I knew who he was."

"Ah." The healer sipped his tea. "And what did you say?"

"That I did. I wasn't going to lie to him."

"Did you tell him who he was?"

Qui-Gon looked into the healer's bland gaze, "No, I told him you thought it was a bad idea. That he needed to remember for himself." His voice became heavy, "Then he asked me if we were ever going to tell him."

Schal said, "And now you feel guilty."

"You could say that. I said that if we decided he was never going to remember that then we would tell him." Qui- Gon smiled sadly, "Then he said he trusted me and apologised." He turned the tea cup between his fingers. "How is he ever going to be a Jedi if he can't stand up for himself?"

The healer considered, "Well, he hasn't been here for very long. Not when you consider he has been a slave since he was thirteen. You can't expect him to change a lifetime of behaviour overnight." He tapped the side of the cup. "Think of him as a thirteen year old. Because that's what he is in terms of his emotional and social development. Slaves have no will of their own, they can make almost no decisions for themselves and they are utterly dependent on their owners. In many ways he is still a child. You noticed it yourself. The first time we spoke about him you said he was innocent." Schal held Qui-Gon's gaze, "Don't try to go too fast, this will take time and patience."

Qui-Gon nodded, "I know that intellectually, but ... it's the dependence that worries me. You say it's a heavy load for me but I worry that he is placing too much dependence on me. He needs to find his independence."

"Qui-Gon, if Oban was your new padawan, if he was thirteen years old, how would you assess his behaviour?"

Qui-Gon stared at the greenish liquid in his cup, "Well ... aside from the sexual aspect ... I suppose I would consider it fairly normal. Except that I would expect a young padawan to have plenty of friends here in the Temple. And not be so anxious for my approval or scared of my disapproval."

Schal nodded, "I should think a new padawan would be careful not to displease his master. And you would expect him to be reliant on you for information and support."

"Yes. Yes, I would." Qui-Gon agreed. "I see what you mean Schal but you heard about the intruders we had. I was furious but I didn't lose my temper. Oban expected me to punish *him*."

"Ah, well, I didn't say he was *exactly* like a young padawan. If it's any consolation Qui-Gon, I think you are doing very well so far." Schal almost grinned at the sceptical look in the other master's eyes. "Really. The very fact that he trusts you and isn't afraid of you speaks volumes."

"You don't think he is too trusting?" Qui-Gon asked.

Schal shook his head, "Of you? No."

"But he is completely open ... " Qui-Gon paused, "How does he know I can be trusted?"

Schal smiled, "The same way you know. Qui-Gon, the boy is Force sensitive, and while he hasn't had the training he would have had if he had remained here I should think being a pleasure slave would make you a pretty fair judge of character. Besides he's been with you for almost three weeks now. He's getting to know you."

The healer watched Qui-Gon digest his words. After a moment he asked carefully, "You said you still had reservations about the sexual relationship?"

Qui-Gon drained the tea and put the cup on the desk. "Yes. That's why I asked about him being too trusting. I can't shake the feeling that I'm using him."

"Are you?"

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said simply.

Schal poured more tea, "Of course you do. Tell me. Do you care for Oban?"

Qui-Gon took the tea cup and said definitely, "Yes."

"Have you forced or coerced him in any way?"

"No, But ... "

Schal held up his hand, "Does Oban ever initiate the sex?"

"He usually initiates it, but ... " Qui-Gon tried again.

"Let me finish Qui-Gon, then we'll deal with your 'buts'. Is he distressed or depressed afterwards." Schal smiled as Qui-Gon flushed faintly.

"No."

The healer asked gently, "How does he seem afterwards?"

The blush deepened. "Happy. Contented."

"And how do you feel afterwards, Qui-Gon?"

"Confused."

Schal, pressed gently, "Confused how?"

Qui-Gon sipped his tea, his eyes fixed on the fragile cup. "I feel wonderful ... warm ... sated ... but I feel guilty too."

"Why? It sounds as though Oban is clear about what he wants?"

Qui-Gon looked up at the healer. "He is. But he has been trained to provide sex for his owner, and in his eyes *I* am his owner. How can I ever be sure that his passion isn't just a trained response? A survival mechanism?"

"For heaven's sake Qui-Gon, you are one of the most powerful Force users we have, don't you think you would be able to tell? Especially since you have a bond with the lad." Schal's exasperation faded as Qui-Gon stared at him in amazement. "Really, I think you must be besotted. First you can't tell that Oban's feelings are genuine and now you are surprised that I know you have a bond. I'm a healer, Qui-Gon, and I've been inside both your minds."

Qui-Gon gave a shaky laugh and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what I was thinking, Schal. Yes, we have a bond, but it's new and it isn't anywhere near fruition."

The healer leaned forward and glared at Qui-Gon. "You are trying to ignore it, aren't you?" He sat back. "Qui-Gon, you have dedicated your life to the Force, trust it now. Let the bond develop."

"I don't know if I'm ready to commit to that extent." Qui-Gon's voice was low and unsure.

Schal sighed, "I doubt whether you have a choice. You plan to take him as your padawan, don't you?" He watched as Qui-Gon nodded. "Then there will be a bond, and this is stronger than a training bond."

Qui-Gon nodded. "But what will happen if he discovers that he doesn't want me after the bond has formed? I won't tie him to me."

"I don't think he has a choice either, Qui-Gon. And at the moment he doesn't want one. Right now his greatest desire is to know that he has a place in your life and in your heart." Schal said gently, "You are confusing him you know?"

"Confusing him?"

Schal smiled at Qui-Gon's puzzled expression. "He knows that you care for him. He knows that you desire him. He knows that you enjoy making love with him. He can't understand why you don't initiate sex, and why you aren't more ... assertive. He is afraid that you are humouring him."

Qui-Gon snorted, "Humouring him? I'm trying not to use him and he thinks I'm humouring him."

Schal sat back and watched Qui-Gon's expression shift from indignant to bemused. "What do you expect him to think when he has to seduce you each time and you treat him as though he's made of glass. He is beginning to be afraid that *he* is using *you*."

Qui-Gon's head was in his hands. After a moment he looked up at Master Schal. "You really think that a sexual relationship between us isn't damaging to Oban?"

Resisting the urge to tell Qui-Gon that it was rather too late to ask that now, Schal said seriously, "I really think that it isn't damaging him. I've told you this before, Qui-Gon." He reminded the other master gently.

"So what do you recommend, Healer Schal?" Qui-Gon asked with a wry smile.

Schal put down his cup and leaned forward. "Qui-Gon, this young man spent nine years as a pleasure slave, nothing can change that. But he's more than that. Don't let his past ruin what you have between you. I recommend that you stop being so angst ridden about the sex. Let yourself go. Sweet and tender has its place, but so does wild and passionate. You're his lover, act like one." 


	3. Chapter 3

As he walked through the Temple corridors, Qui-Gon mused on Schal's words. The healer was right, it was too late to be holding himself back because he was afraid of using the lad. Qui-Gon's pace slowed as he pondered. They might be lovers but that didn't alter the fact that Oban was an ex pleasure slave with no memory of his early life in the Temple, or the that Qui-Gon hoped to take him as his padawan. In the Jedi's mind either of those facts meant that he should not be having sex with Oban. Still, as Schal had so succinctly pointed out, it was too late to close the gate now that the horse had bolted.

Intimate relationships between a master and padawan were not unknown of course. And the Council was unlikely to inquire into the private relationship unless it interfered with the training relationship or became a public scandal. Qui-Gon sighed, always assuming that they allowed him to train Oban. The portents were good but it was by no means a foregone conclusion.

He reached the door to his quarters and rested his hand against the gleaming wood. This place had always been his safe haven, his retreat, for the first time it also felt like home. He could sense Oban's warm and welcoming life force within the space.

When he entered the room was again lit by just the wall lamps. And again there was music, this time mellow and relaxing. Qui-Gon looked to the sofa again, and again found it empty. But tonight there was no semi clad youth framed against the night sky. Tonight Oban was sprawled on the rug in front of the sofa. Two cushions had been dragged to the floor with him, one supported his shoulder and the other his head. A dataslate and a scattering of 'readers formed a semicircle around the lad together with a half-drunk mug of cha and a plate that had clearly held sweet biscuits. Qui-Gon stood looking down at the sleeping youth.

Nothing Schal had said drove the point home quite like seeing Oban asleep amongst the paraphernalia of study. Dressed in light pants and tunic he looked exactly like the padawan he should have been. And just as he would a young padawan who had worn himself out, Qui-Gon picked the youth up off the floor and carried him to bed. Oban murmured and shifted as Qui-Gon moved him. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled hazily up at Qui-Gon before the Jedi nudged him gently back into sleep.

Qui-Gon stood holding the young man in his arms before laying Oban on the bed and swiftly stripping the clothes from him. For a long moment he stood looking down at the young body revealed to him. Qui-Gon's face was unreadable as he took in the perfect proportions and flawless skin. With careful hands he pulled the covers over the lad and brushed a soft caress over his cheek. After a last look from the doorway he returned to the common room and a long night of meditation.

* * *

  
  
Oban woke to the morning sun streaming into the room. He was alone in the bed. Stretching a hand to the spot where his master had slept, he realised that the other side of the bed was cold and that the sense of his master's presence at least a day old.  
  
He thought about the previous evening. After Master Stanell left he had yawned over a passage in the molecular chemistry text. The last thing he remembered was lying on the rug with a cushion bunched under his chin and a plate of sweet biscuits within easy reach. His master had obviously carried him to bed and undressed him. A soft smile came to his lips at the thought. Slowly the smile turned to a frown ... his master hadn't joined him in the bed. Panicking, he reached out through the Force, slightly reassured as he felt the familiar touch in return. Without stopping to dress Oban slid out of bed and went to find his master.  
  
Qui-Gon heard bare feet padding across the room and turned to have a naked Oban land in his arms. The young man wound his arms and legs around him clinging to the Jedi as he buried his face in the older man's shoulder. "Shh, it's all right Obi. What's the matter?" He stroked his hand down the trembling back. Relief poured from the young man. "I'm here, it's all right."  
  
Clutching the rough fabric of his master's tunic and nuzzling his cheek into his master's neck, Oban savoured the warmth and strength of the big body that held him. With a blush he slid to his feet and glanced down his naked body. "I'm sorry, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon brushed the shaggy fringe out of Oban's eyes, "There is nothing to apologise for, Obi." Then he turned him towards the bedroom, "But I suggest you get dressed before we meditate."  
  
Oban smiled shyly and went back to the bedroom, aware of his master's eyes on him as he crossed the room. As he pulled on his tunic, Oban closed his eyes, remembering the warm glow in the dark blue eyes.  
  
When he had woken alone he'd been afraid. Afraid that Master Schal had spoken to his master and that his master had been displeased by what he had heard. Most of Oban's conversations with the healer were about his memories but Master Schal always set aside time to ask how he was adjusting to the Temple. Oban was shy of speaking of the intimate aspects of his relationship with his master and he felt that it would be disloyal. But Master Schal never pushed further than he was willing to go and Oban found himself confiding his hopes and fears. Having someone simply listen and support him was a new experience for the ex-slave.  
  
With a quick glance in the long mirror to check his clothes Oban headed back to the common room.  
  


* * *

  
  
That day's session with Master Schal continued the healer's work reintegrating Oban's memories. Qui-Gon sat with his hands on Oban's shoulders, monitoring the state of both Schal and Oban's minds. When the healer withdrew, he sat back and rubbed his temple smiling reassuringly at Qui-Gon. "I think that's enough for now."  
  
Qui-Gon returned the smile, "I think this is as hard on you as it is on Oban."  
  
Schal poured himself a glass of water, "It's certainly tiring." He smiled as Oban blinked and sat up. "How do you feel, Oban?"  
  
Oban stretched his neck and shoulders, "All right I think, Master Schal." He stood and his brows drew together.  
  
"What is it, Obi?" Qui-Gon put a steadying hand on the young man's shoulder.  
  
There was a frown and a shake of his head then Oban moved closer to his master, "I just feel a bit ... " He tilted his head, "I don't know ... unsettled. It's as though ... " his voice trailed off.  
  
Schal handed Oban a glass of water, "We might have made some new connections. Just let it settle and we'll talk about it tomorrow, Oban. Now go and get something to eat."  
  
They were joined for noonmeal by Mace Windu. Qui- Gon watched with pride as Oban responded to the councillor's questions. He also endured patiently as Mace ran a light scan over his mind, the only sign of tension being Oban's hand clutching Qui-Gon's under the table.  
  
Joining the pair for their afternoon training session the councillor watched as they warmed up and then ran through the basic katas. He nodded in approval as Qui-Gon began to instruct Oban in the fifth kata. Oban's natural skills were every bit as impressive as Qui-Gon had reported; he was strong and graceful and his attention was focussed and intelligent.  
  
When they had finished and were towelling themselves down Qui-Gon sent a wave of approval to Oban as Mace patted the youth's shoulder. "Well done, young man. We'll make a Jedi of you yet." With a smile at the stunned expression on the boy's face, he turned to Qui-Gon, "I think it's time you introduced Oban to the Council. I'll arrange a time with you after I've spoken to Master Schal. Well done, both of you." And with that the councillor left the training room.  
  
Oban turned to his master to see a wide smile on his face. His own astonishment turned to pleasure. "Does that mean I can be your padawan, Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon planted a kiss on Oban's forehead, "It means Master Windu thinks so." He ruffled Oban's sweat damp hair. "Is that what you want, Obi?"  
  
Eyes sparkling, Oban nodded, "Yes, Master."  
  
"It will mean a lot of work. And you won't reach your trials until you're past thirty. You will still be a padawan while younger Jedi are knights." Qui-Gon warned him.  
  
Oban nodded again, "I understand, Master."  
  
They donned their robes and headed back to their quarters. "Do you remember anything about the padawan classes?"  
  
Oban walked silently while he thought, then he shook his head and said slowly, "Not really."  
  
"What about your master?"  
  
Oban's eyes shot to his master's face, "My master?"  
  
"Before you were kidnapped you had another master, another Jedi."  
  
"I don't ... " Oban stopped in his tracks.  
  
Qui-Gon propelled him forward with a firm hand against the small of his back. "It's all right, Obi." He could sense the turmoil in Oban's thoughts, traces of screams and flames, of fighting and then of overwhelming loss. Sliding carefully into Oban's thoughts, he steered the lad away from the chaos, blanketing him in warmth and comfort. "Don't worry."  
  
Kicking himself for bringing up the subject of Oban's master at such an inappropriate time and place Qui-Gon was relieved when they reached their quarters. Turning Oban to face him he asked, "How are you feeling?"  
  
Oban's expression was puzzled but he smiled trustingly into his master's face, "Tired, and a little confused."  
  
Qui-Gon took the robe from Oban's shoulders, "That is only to be expected. Now, I think a long, hot shower is in order." He brushed a finger down Oban's cheek. "If you go and start, I'll hang these robes up and be right with you."  
  
Oban had taken two steps towards the bathroom when his master's words spun his head around, "Master?"  
  
"Unless you'd rather shower alone?" Qui-Gon asked innocently.  
  
Oban saw the wicked gleam in his master's eyes and ducked his head, "Yes, Master."  
  
It was Qui-Gon's turn to stare. He was relieved to see the grin that curved Oban's mouth as the younger man turned and headed for the shower.  
  
As he stripped and tossed his training gear into the laundry hamper, Oban found that he was nervous. He turned the water on and adjusted the temperature, fiddling to get it just right, then he pulled fresh towels from the cupboard and set them on the bench. Taking a shaky breath Oban stepped under the water and turned his face up to the warm flow. He closed his eyes and tried to release the tension that was quivering through him.  
  
Everything he wanted was coming to him. What was there to be nervous about? This was his master, his tall, strong, kind, gorgeous master. And he was coming to him, Oban, without any need for persuasion or seduction. Oban felt the realisation shiver through him. His head fell back and he gasped as big hands settled on his hips.  
  
Qui-Gon had entered the bathroom to see that Oban was already under the shower. The Jedi shed his clothes, his eyes fixed on the pale, alluring silhouette behind the misty screen. Opening the screen Qui-Gon stepped in and slid his hands along Oban's smooth sides. At his touch Oban gave a shuddering gasp and let his head fall back against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The taller man wrapped his arms around the strong, young body and pulled Oban against his chest. As he bent to kiss Oban he felt the shivers that were running through the youth.  
  
"Obi?" Qui-Gon rubbed his hands along Oban's arms, soothing and caressing. He could feel the tension in the other man's body, feel the muscles quivering under his fingers. He took a half step back, "It's all right, Obi. If you don't want ... "  
  
"NO!" Oban turned in his master's arms, "I mean, yes ... yes I want you." He clung to the arms that held him. "I'm just nervous. I've never wanted to be with anyone before, and here you are ... you came to me." Oban's voice got softer and softer and his forehead came to rest against his master's chest.  
  
Qui-Gon bent forward to catch the whispered words. His lips were on Oban's hair when he asked incredulously, "Never?" Oban shook his head. The breath caught in his throat as Qui-Gon took Oban head between his hands and turned the handsome face towards him. "It can't all have been horrible. Didn't any of them think of your pleasure?"  
  
Drowning in the gentle passion he saw in his master's eyes, Oban shrugged. "Only if it suited them. Mostly they didn't care and some of them liked to hurt." He saw the dark shadow of pain cross the Jedi's face, and the disgust. "It is a slave's place to serve."  
  
The simple words and the acceptance in Oban's voice broke Qui-Gon's heart. He pulled Oban hard against him, holding him close and stroking his hair as he said, "I am a Jedi Master. It is my place, my *duty*, to serve. And it is my honour and my pleasure to serve and protect you, Obi."  
  
The slippery body squirmed from his grasp. Oban took hold of his master's shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, Master," he said firmly, "you must not ... "  
  
Placing a hand to Oban's lips Qui-Gon gave a shaky laugh, "Let's not argue about it, Obi. As lovers it is our place to give each other pleasure."  
  
A deep sigh emanated from the young man. "Lovers!" There was immense pride and satisfaction in his voice.  
  
With a nod Qui-Gon reached for the soap. "Lovers."  
  
He lathered his hands and began spreading the pine scented foam over the young man's shoulders, down his arms and across his chest and belly. Then Qui-Gon knelt and began to soap the strong, elegant legs.  
  
Oban stared down at his master as the older man knelt at his feet, running sensuous hands over his body, teasing and soothing as he went. The ex-slave was stunned that this man would do this, that he would want to touch him like this. He reached a tentative hand down to stroke his master's hair. Indigo eyes looked up at him and Oban was struck dumb by the desire and the devotion he saw. He sank to his knees and ran wondering hands over his master's face, adoring fingers mapping the crooked nose and prominent forehead.  
  
His fingers came to rest on the harsh silk of the Jedi's beard. He leaned forward and placed a reverent kiss on the sensual mouth.  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes as his mouth was brushed by soft lips. He licked at Oban's lips until they open for him then he stood, lifting the younger man with him, and allowed himself the pleasure of thoroughly ravishing Oban's mouth. As they embraced the water pattered over them running in rivulets and torrents until finally Qui-Gon leaned back and shook his hair over his shoulders, saying ruefully, "The Temple Resources committee is going to be questioning my water usage again."  
  
"Then it must be time for me to wash you, Master." Oban ran his hands over the tall frame and long limbs before him. The only response was a happy, "Hmmmm" and Oban was deciding whether to indulge himself or pamper his master when he was taken in a firm grip and placed against the tiles.  
  
"Master?" Oban wriggled his shoulders against the slick wall, the Jedi's hands firm on his hips, one lean thigh pressing against his groin.  
  
Qui-Gon licked at the water that trickled over Oban's chest, stopping to suck at each nipple before sliding lower to nip at the tender skin of his belly and nuzzle into the crease between thigh and hip. Oban was making soft, husky gasping noises. The sounds sent sparks through the Jedi. He sat back on his heels to look up into his lover's face. Brilliant teal blue eyes gazed down at him, lids slipping closed as Qui-Gon took the younger man's solid phallus in his hand.  
  
Oban felt as though the Force enveloped him as his master closed long fingers around his straining cock. He was overloaded with sensation, held between the cool tiles at his back and the strong, gentle hand grasping his core. The hand began to move. Blunt, capable fingers held and fondled him, warm and compelling. With a shuddering gasp he found himself staring into eyes that spoke of desire and possession. He watched as indigo turned to sable and passion flared between them.  
  
His master's hair was slicked back from his face accentuating his leonine profile. Oban had only a moment to marvel at the power and beauty of the man before he was drawn into his mouth and swallowed whole.  
  
Qui-Gon let the need and the sensuality transport him. He felt the emotions flow between them, sex and sensuality bound by tenderness and trust. Oban's devotion was a tangible presence in the room and he met it with his own deep affection. Wrapping his hands around Oban's hips he held the pliant body still and almost withdrew only to plunge down again and again.  
  
Oban's hands were scrabbling at the wall as he sobbed his release. He felt his master move and was hugged tight against the hard, slick body as the Jedi pressed his erection against Oban's belly. One big hand settled on the small of his back and held him as the bigger body flexed and thrust against him.  
  
Qui-Gon groaned and bent to Oban's mouth, his tongue taking possession as he sighed and came.  
  
Silently they washed each other, hands quick and efficient. Oban turned off the water. Qui-Gon stepped out of the shower stall and held one of the towels ready to wrap around the clean and contented body of the younger man.  
  
Oban found himself in a bundle of fluffy towelling, being picked up and carried to their bedroom. As he set his burden down his master began vigorously rubbing him dry.  
  
Oban squirmed as determined hands dried off every inch of him and then rubbed at his wet hair until it was merely damp.  
  
Emerging from the towel breathless and glowing Oban motioned his master to sit on the edge of the bed.  
  
Qui-Gon dried himself as he watched Oban collect his brush from the dresser. The young man wandered unselfconsciously naked around the bedroom and Qui-Gon drank in the sight of him. "Have I told you how beautiful you are, Obi?"  
  
Blushing faintly, Oban dipped his head. "Do you think so, Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon caught and kissed him, a sweet, lingering embrace. "Oh, yes."  
  
Oban climbed on to the bed and sat behind his master. Gathering the damp, tangled hair he kissed the nape of the Jedi's neck. He slid his legs around his master and began slowly smoothing and brushing the mane of hair.  
  
"As are you, Master."  
  


* * *

  
  
It was a perfect start to the day. Qui-Gon woke with the warm, hard curve of Oban's spine pressing against his side. Reaching out from habit and training to taste the Force he found the myriad signatures of the Temple and the glowing presence of Oban close by. Without opening his eyes he shifted and curled around Oban's sleeping body.  
  
Sometime later Oban woke to find his mouth claimed by his master and his body covered. His master was plastered to him, skin to skin, heat to heat as the pleasure bloomed between them.  
  
Firstmeal was a quiet, companionable affair. During their morning meditations Qui-Gon finally acknowledged the bond between them. Reaching through it to touch Oban he showed him how to access the bond and, when necessary, how to block and shield it. Oban seemed somewhat in awe of the bond but he followed his master's instructions with a slightly timid mind touch. Satisfied that the bond was properly established Qui-Gon emerged and smiled at the look on Oban's face.  
  
"It is all right, Obi, really. It is only a deeper, more personal version of the connection between all Force users."  
  
His expression turning thoughtful, Oban examined the sensations and nodded. "Yes, I see. But I can *feel* you, Master."  
  
"As long as the bond remains between us we can sense each other ... if one of us is injured or distressed ... as we get more familiar with the bond and with each other we will sense more of each other's emotions. Some bonded pairs develop a limited kind of telepathy, a sense of what the other is thinking." He stood, shutting down the bond a little. "We will have to decide for ourselves what level of openness we are comfortable with. And it will vary according to the situation."  
  
Oban nodded. "Yes, Master. Otherwise it would be like having a constant noise in your head."  
  
"Master Schal will be able to advise us." Qui-Gon was pleased that the lad understood and had not been offended by his slight withdrawal.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon and Oban appeared before the Council that afternoon. Oban was nervous but calm. Confident in the support of his master and Master Schal, he stood at his master's side, hands clasped lightly, head tilted slightly forward, silent and assured.  
  
Mace Windu smiled as he welcomed Oban and introduced the councillors. "We are pleased to hear of your progress."  
  
Yoda nodded. "Very welcome here you are, young Oban." His big eyes twinkled up at Oban. "Wish to stay with us you do? Hmmm?"  
  
Oban's voice was sure, "Yes, Master Yoda."  
  
There was a subliminal sense of communication between the councillors then they began firing questions at Qui-Gon and Schal. Oban listened, his eyes flicking from councillor to councillor. Some of them sounded unsure but he could sense no animosity.  
  
With a look at Schal, Qui-Gon took a small step forward, his hand on Oban's shoulder. "I ask to be allowed to take Oban as my padawan learner." He sensed the start of surprised pleasure from Oban and his fingers tightened on the young man's shoulder. The simple question silenced the councillors. Schal shot Qui-Gon a rueful grin and said, "In my opinion Oban is ready."  
  
Adi Gallia asked gently, "Oban, is this what you wish?"  
  
"Yes, Master Gallia." His elegant voice was firm.  
  
She smiled, "You understand what will be required?"  
  
"I believe so, Master Gallia."  
  
Qui-Gon said, "Oban remembers much from his childhood here in the Temple."  
  
Depa Billaba asked, "But he doesn't remember everything?"  
  
Schal stepped forward. "Not yet, however I believe that we are close to a breakthrough." The healer looked at Oban and smiled. "But even if Oban never remembers his original name he *does* remember the important things, the lessons and the connection with the Force."  
  
There was a murmur around the chamber. Yoda tapped his stick on the floor. "Trust Master Schal's judgment I do. And Master Jinn. Padawan, Oban may be. Report to us regularly on your progress."  
  
Qui-Gon and Oban bowed to the councillors and left the chamber, followed by Master Schal. The healer walking beside the younger man. "How do you feel, Oban?"  
  
Oban thinned his shields and there was no doubting his pleasure. "Proud, Master Schal, and happy." He looked at his master and said earnestly, "Thank you, Master. I will be worthy."  
  
"I know you will, Obi." Qui-Gon allowed his affection and support to flow through the bond. "I am proud of you, my Padawan."  
  


* * *

  
  
The day after the Council meeting Qui-Gon and Oban went to dinner with knights Eletha and Frensam. Oban showed a little natural shyness but was soon at ease with the friendly couple. Although Oban showed a tendency to defer to his master it was no more than what might be expected from a dutiful padawan. Qui-Gon was happy to see that in all other respects he was simply a young man enjoying a night with friends.  
  
The next day they altered their routine slightly so Qui- Gon could take Oban through the first 'Padawan Induction' class, and Shay Eletha joined them in the training room to allow Oban to experience a different fighting style. Qui-Gon also began to introduce Oban to more areas of the Temple. Oban was especially drawn to the gardens and spent an hour with Master Yoda in the High Garden.  
  
While Oban was with Yoda, Qui-Gon conferred with Schal. Sooner or later Oban would have to join the general Temple community and Qui-Gon knew that the padawans who remembered Obi-Wan were impatient to meet him.  
  
Schal agreed with Qui-Gon, until Oban either remembered who he was or had been told there could only be confusion from a meeting with people from his past. His meeting with Shay Eletha and Ti Frensam was a start and Master Stanell was considering who to introduce as a second tutor.  
  
Meanwhile the Council had a task for Qui-Gon. His training of Oban withdrew him from the field for the coming months but that did not mean that his considerable experience need be unavailable. That evening, while Master Stanell worked with Oban, Qui-Gon sat at his desk reviewing the Council's data and beginning his research.  
  
When Stanell left Oban brewed cha and returned to the common room with the cha and a plate of small fruitcakes, then he settled back on the sofa with a mug in one hand and a 'reader in the other. His master was working on something at the main comm unit and smiled his thanks for the cha before turning his attention back to the screen.  
  
Oban worked through the exercises Master Stanell had set him. His master was showing no signs of finishing whatever it was he was doing so Oban began to look up the history of the gardens in the Temple. They were such a surprise in this vast, contrived complex; small, lovingly tended pockets of life in a vast maze of stone and glass and plasteel.  
  
Many of the records he accessed had footnotes that led to information about the Jedi who planted or designed or were simply associated with the gardens. An idea formed and Oban began to search for the records of padawans who would be about his age. Nothing. He searched the archives for information about trainees and initiates at the time he would have been in the Temple. There was some information, but it was all general, he couldn't find anything specific about anyone who might be him.  
  
And then it hit him. A master and a padawan had disappeared, presumed killed, surely there would be *something* in the records. But the query came back 'no data'. Oban frowned. Obviously his access to the information had been restricted. He looked across the room to where his master was sitting. Master Schal said that he needed to remember on his own but surely...  
  
Oban entered a request for the masters who had died in the appropriate time period. He scrolled through the names, letting each one settle into his mind. Would he recognise the name when he saw it? Some of the names seemed vaguely familiar but nothing reached out and... Del Temlana. Oban stopped. Master Temlana. He accessed the entry and was presented with a biography.  
  
Scrolling to the end he was faced with the stark words: 'Lost in action' followed by the date of the memorial. Paging back he was confronted with a screen of text. Before he could begin reading, words leapt into his mind. Pirates ... Freighter Marlova ... Padawan ...  
  
Suddenly he was in a dark, noisy, cramped corridor. People were screaming and cursing. Acrid smoke made his eyes water and his breath rip through his throat. A grating, snapping noise came from behind him and a blast knocked him into the bulkhead. His master's hand grabbed him and spun him around the corner, her solid presence reassuring him and helping him focus. A lightsabre was in his hand and his master's purple blade flashed at the corner of his eye. He could sense her every movement, knew where she was going to be, what she wanted him to do. Back to back they fought in the haze of smoke, the smell of death and hot metal teasing at his concentration as presence after presence left the Force, many screaming in agony.  
  
Finally there was silence. Only he and his master still stood against the shadowy figures that blocked the entrance to the corridor. Side by side now they deflected blaster bolts. Then the presence beside him simply disappeared. One minute his master was solid at his side and in his mind, the next he was alone and the shadows were overwhelming him. His 'sabre was swatted from his hand as something closed around his neck and agony descended.  
  
Qui-Gon had closed all but his outermost shields when he sat down to work so that he wouldn't disturb, or be disturbed by, Oban and Stanell. It wasn't until he heard a soft moan that he realised something was wrong. At the sound his head snapped up and he looked across to the sofa where Oban was sitting. Only he wasn't there any more. From where he sat Qui-Gon could see no sign of the young man but he could hear the low, wailing moan. Lowering his shields he felt misery and pain.  
  
In a thought Qui-Gon was across the room and kneeling beside the sofa. Oban was bent double, his hands clutching his throat, fingers clawing and tearing at something that wasn't there. Red streaks marked where his nails had dragged over pale skin and blood was beginning to ooze in places. Oban was rocking up and down in tiny, staccato movements, his eyes staring agonised into nothing, his mouth a gaping wound in a face turned ashen.  
  
Qui-Gon reached out to pull Oban into his arms but the other man jerked away from his touch, fingers curled in defensive talons. "Obi! It's me, Qui-Gon. Your master. Shh ... it's all right." The words made no difference. Oban's eyes stared at him in unseeing hatred and fear. His body convulsed and that awful, anguished moan continued.  
  
Trying to reach Oban through the bond, Qui-Gon poured soothing waves of affection and safety to him as he went to the comm unit and called Master Schal.  
  
When the healer's face appeared Qui-Gon said, "Can you get here right away. Something's happened to Obi."  
  
Hearing the anxiety and the agitation in the usually serene voice Schal simply nodded and the screen went dead.  
  
Qui-Gon sat beside Oban and held the writhing hands away from his neck. Oban snarled and struggled to break his hold, panic and despair rolling off him. He scanned Oban's thoughts and recoiled at the pain and terror. Carefully Qui- Gon sent a Force compulsion to relax and then pulled the limp body against him, stroking and murmuring comfort as he waited for the healer to arrive.  
  
When the door chime sounded Qui-Gon eased Oban back against the cushions, casting an worried glance at the pale, cowering figure. Schal took one look at Qui-Gon and went to Oban. Running gentle hands over Oban's face and neck he asked, "What happened?"  
  
Qui-Gon said "I was working at the comm unit and Oban was doing the exercises that Master Stannell set him." He picked up the 'reader, "He must have finished and decided to do some research. He found Del Temlana's obituary."  
  
"It obviously triggered his memories of the capture." Schal laid a hand on Oban's neck and healed the scratches and bruising. "It is a pity it happened when we weren't ready for it. But frankly I'm not surprised that it's been so traumatic for him. The very fact we haven't been able to make a significant breakthrough suggested that there was barrier."  
  
Qui-Gon watched as the healer focussed and felt him slide into the turmoil of Oban's thoughts. For long minutes the two stared at each other then Oban let out a sigh and slumped back as Schal stood and smiled shakily. Qui-Gon tested Oban's thoughts and was relieved to find them sorrowful but calm. He seemed to have fallen into a light sleep so Qui-Gon moved him until he was laying on the sofa and placed a cushion under his head.  
  
Schal sank into a chair. "He'll be all right. I've broken him out of the flashback but he will need to work through the memories and the guilt."  
  
"Guilt? Because he survived?" Qui-Gon frowned.  
  
The healer nodded, "Classic reaction. Add the fact that he wasn't able to deal with it at the time. I think the real work is only just beginning." Schal ran his hands over his face. "Could I have a drink, Qui?"  
  
"Of course. Hard or soft?"  
  
"Can I have a glass of water and then a long shot of something extremely alcoholic."  
  
Qui-Gon gave him the water and poured two glasses of brandy. Placing a cushion on the floor beside Oban he sat and absently stroked the tawny hair. "So now what? What state will he be in when he wakes?"  
  
Schal shrugged, "It's hard to say. He will have to deal with the things he has remembered. There is likely to be grief obviously, and guilt. Probably some degree of disorientation at first. He's going to have to reintegrate the memories, and I doubt whether he's remembered everything. He'll most likely be dealing with fragments."  
  
The two masters sat in silence for a time, drinking the brandy and watching Oban as he slept. Qui-Gon turned back to Schal to see that the healer's eyes had moved to him. "It isn't your fault, Qui-Gon."  
  
Qui-Gon looked down at his glass then back at Schal. "If I hadn't closed my shields I would have known sooner what he was doing. I might have been able to spare him some of the anguish... or at least offered support."  
  
"Why were you shielded?"  
  
"Obi was studying with Vel Stanell. He tends to forget to keep his shields up when he's excited or absorbed in something and I was doing research ... " Qui-Gon trailed to a halt. "All right, I know what you're going to say. It was perfectly reasonable to be shielded."  
  
Schal smiled. "Then I won't say it. Blaming yourself unnecessarily won't help Oban." He put his empty glass down and stood looking down at Oban. Pulling a hypo from a pocket he pressed the spray to Oban's neck. "Let him sleep the night out. I've given him something to relax him. Call me if you need to."  
  
Qui-Gon stood. "Thanks, Schal."  
  
Schal looked up at the taller Jedi. "Do you need anything?"  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "I can put myself to sleep if necessary. But I'd rather be alert in case Obi needs me."  
  
"Fair enough, but get some sleep, Qui. You'll be no good to anyone if you wear yourself out. You are in for a stressful couple of days, unless I much mistake the situation." Schal patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder and smiled as he left.  
  
Qui-Gon looked down at Oban then sighed and picked him up. He carried Oban into the bedroom and quickly undressed him. Putting him in a pair of sleeping pants before settling him under the covers. For a moment Oban lay where he had been placed then he sighed and turned on his side, snuggling into the pillow.  
  
Fixing himself a mug of spiced cha, Qui-Gon sat staring out at the night sky, clearing his mind and relaxing his body. When he finally joined Oban the lad was sleeping curled on his side, his dreams amorphous and unthreatening. Qui- Gon slept with the bond open and twice woke to ease Oban out of nightmares of blood and fire, remaining awake each time until he was sure that Oban's sleep was undisturbed.  
  
Oban was already out of bed when Qui-Gon woke.  
  
The Jedi master lay for a moment listening, there was silence from the other room but he could sense Oban's presence.  
  
Qui-Gon rose and dressed quicky, reaching out with the Force as he brushed his hair and tied it back. Oban had all his shields firmly closed. The bond pulsed quietly between them but it was too new to tell Qui-Gon much about the other man's state of mind. That Oban was tense and unhappy was all too evident from his general aura. Still it was encouraging that the bond was still there, a severe emotional trauma at this early stage could easily have severed the bond entirely.  
  
Oban was sitting before the comm unit frowning with frustration. Qui-Gon stood just inside the room watching as Oban read the data on the screen. Oban's focus was rivetted to the screen, his head leaning forward, one hand hovering over the entry pad. Not wanting to startle the lad, Qui-Gon sent a gentle pulse of affection and smiled as Oban's head twisted to face him. Oban's eyes were haunted, the mixture of misery and confusion tugged at Qui-Gon and he took a step forward.  
  
Oban scrambled to his feet and lowered his eyes. "Good morning. Master." He wanted to throw himself against his master's chest, he wanted to sink through the floor. It was bad enough when he was just a pleasure slave, now he was a failed padawan who had let his master get killed.  
  


* * *

  
  
By the time they reached Master Schal's office Qui-Gon was seriously worried. During their morning meditations Oban had been unable to release his emotions to the Force and any attempt to enter a trance resulted in the violent memories overwhelming him. After three attempts Qui-Gon called a halt and sent a mild relaxation compulsion to the young man. Over firstmeal Oban had been subdued, his anxiety muted but present. Instead of his usual unselfconscious affection and vitality Qui-Gon sensed a desperate, despairing longing.  
  
When Qui-Gon had asked if he wanted to talk about what he remembered, Oban had simply shaken his head his eyes lifting briefly to meet Qui-Gon's. Unwilling to push the matter Qui-Gon smiled reassurance and turned the conversation to the day's activities. Alarmed by Oban's despondency Qui-Gon sent support and affection and kept a tactful watch on the lad until they reached the Infirmary complex.  
  
Schal ushered Oban into his office and smiled sympathetically at Qui-Gon. The tall Jedi returned the smile wanly and raised a questioning eyebrow. The healer held Qui- Gon's eyes and shook his head slightly as he closed the door.  
  
Qui-Gon settled into a chair, took a dataslate from his pocket and set about coordinating Oban's padawan induction. After almost an hour the door opened and Schal joined Qui- Gon in the waiting room.  
  
Answering the Master's questioning look Schal said, "He's fairly upset at the moment. I have done some work shoring up his self esteem until he is over the initial trauma, and I took him through the some relaxation exercises. He's asleep at the moment."  
  
Qui-Gon tried to read the healer. "Is he all right?"  
  
"Yes and no. He remembers the attack and Master Temlana's death... he's grieving." The healer smiled sadly, " But it *does* seem to have persuaded him that he is, or at least was, a Jedi. It has given all those vague memories he had some sort of focus."  
  
"And he still doesn't remember who he is?"  
  
Schal shook his head, "No. And he feels he has failed. That Temlana's death is his fault."  
  
Qui-Gon looked grave, "So what do we do now? What do *I* do?"  
  
"Keep doing what you have been doing. Support him. Teach him about the Jedi. Let him know that we're not perfect ... or infallible." Schal stared at the door, considering the young man inside. "I think we should stop the probes for a while but I'd like you to go ahead with giving him information about people he used to know. I'll prepare bios of padawans about his age - nothing too detailed, just something to spark some memories. I'll send them to you this afternoon. I think we should nudge the remembering along now that he has remembered the capture."  
  
"Very well." Qui-Gon scrubbed his hands through his beard.  
  
Schal placed a hand on Qui-Gon's knee. "It's going to be a hard couple of days for both of you. Keep him busy, both mentally and physically ... and don't withdraw from him. He's going to need support ... and he needs to know you accept him."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "The Council isn't going to like this. Not right after they allowed him to become a padawan."  
  
"Probably not. I'll talk to Master Yoda."  
  
Qui-Gon's smile eased at that and he nodded again. "Yoda does seem to have a soft spot for Obi."  
  
Schal stood, "Yoda has a soft spot for both of you."  
  


* * *

  
  
They followed their usual routine with Qui-Gon adding a visit to the gymnasium prior to the afternoons training session. He was pleased to see Oban send a shy smile to a group of initiates who were also using the gym but distressed by the way the lad seemed to shrink under the mildly curious gaze of the Jedi they passed in the corridors. And the lad was unusually quiet as he bent his attention to the tasks Qui-Gon set him. There was a muted desperation in his desire to please.  
  
Qui-Gon maintained his customary serenity. Sending his support and affection to the younger man, correcting and praising him as they worked. When they finished the exercises, he patted Oban's shoulder, letting the hand rest for a moment as he smiled down into Oban's worried eyes. Oban leaned into the touch for a moment then withdrew and turned to pick up his robe.  
  
For the rest of the afternoon Oban maintained his usual dignity and graceful poise but his aura thrummed with anxiety. After dinner Qui-Gon sat reading his mail, watching the interaction between Stanell and Oban and wondering what to do.  
  
When the lesson was finished Stanell set Oban exercises as usual and bid goodnight to her pupil. As she was leaving she cast a meaningful look at Qui-Gon and said, "I have several names of possible tutors for Oban, I'd like your opinion Qui-Gon."  
  
"Certainly, Vel. I'll speak to you in the morning."  
  
The teacher nodded, "That will be satisfactory." Smiling again at Oban she bid Qui-Gon goodnight.  
  
Qui-Gon turned to see Oban standing beside the desk watching him. "Come and sit with me Obi. We need to talk."  
  
"Yes, Master." Oban felt his stomach twist. He had never really believed that he was going to be allowed to be a Jedi. If only his master didn't send him away. His eyes lowered, trying desperately to shield his turbulent emotions, Oban sat on the edge of the sofa.  
  
Qui-Gon felt the drop in Oban's emotions. He poured two glasses of wine from the decanter on the sideboard and carried them to the sofa. Handing a glass to Oban he sat and looked at the young man. "What's wrong, Obi? Is it the memories of your capture?"  
  
Gulping at the crimson wine, Oban straightened his shoulders and looked at his master. "I want to stay with you."  
  
"Obi ... "  
  
"Even if I'm not good enough to be your padawan ... please let me stay." He reached out towards his master then drew his hand back and wrapped it around the glass.  
  
"Why would you think you are not good enough?" Qui-Gon asked gently. "Only two days ago that you were so happy to be my padawan. You believed you were worthy then. And so did I... so do I. Nothing has changed."  
  
Oban was perched on the very edge of the sofa, his body tense. "Two days ago I didn't know I had let my master get killed."  
  
"Obi, you were thirteen. There were only two of you against dozens of raiders." Qui-Gon laid a hand on Oban's thigh and rubbed it as he felt the muscle tremble.  
  
"But they killed her ... and they captured me. And I don't remember anything." Oban's mellow voice was harsh with pain. "I should have died with her," he whispered.  
  
"Obi, it is a master's duty to protect her padawan."  
  
Qui-Gon moved to take Oban into his arms but the ex-slave shied away from him. "We are Jedi but we are not invincible ... and you were only a boy."  
  
Oban shook his head. "I should have been able to save her."  
  
Taking Oban's shoulders in his hands Qui-Gon turned the lad towards him. "There is no shame in being outnumbered. You are not the first Jedi to lose a battle and you won't be the last and you survived."  
  
Shame clouded wide blue eyes. "At my master's expense."  
  
"No! No, Obi. You were overpowered. They wanted you alive. It isn't your fault." Qui-Gon poured conviction into his voice and through the bond.  
  
Failing to twist out of his master's grasp, Oban stilled and looked away. "You don't know. You weren't there."  
  
"Then show me." Qui-Gon shook Oban gently. "Show me, Obi."  
  
There was a moment's hesitation then Oban lifted his shields a little and Qui-Gon quickly scanned the memories. With the ease of training and experience the Jedi Master sifted through the chaos of the images. He saw how the two Jedi were hindered by the panicked crew and passengers. How Temlana chose her position, placing Oban so that he was partially shielded by her 'sabre. Saw the pair fend off dozens of attackers until they were finally overwhelmed. Felt Oban's panic as he lost his link with his master and in that moment felt the pain of the Force dampening collar as it closed around the boy's neck.  
  
Oban looked up into his master's eyes. "You see. I let them do it."  
  
Qui-Gon held Oban's gaze. "No. You did all you could. Sometimes the universe throws more at us than we can handle ... even with the Force." He pulled the reluctant body towards him and took Oban's face between his hands. "We do what we can. We do what we must. Master Temlana fought gallantly and so did you, Obi. I am proud to have you as my padawan."  
  
"I don't want you to die because of me." The soft words were anguished.  
  
"If I thought you were not capable I would not have taken you as my padawan." Qui-Gon looked deep into Oban's eyes. "I can help you, Obi. You *can* do this."  
  
Oban sank into the limitless blue of his master's eyes, reading the support and determination. He drank in the affection that was pouring through the Force and through their bond. How could he disappoint this man? But how could he ever live up to his expectations?  
  
Qui-Gon watched the conflict in Oban's eyes. "You don't feel as though you can do this at the moment because you have been overwhelmed by the memory, but you are strong. I have faith in you." He drew Oban towards him and kissed his forehead. "Trust me, Obi."  
  
At the touch of his master's lips Oban sighed and leaned towards the older man. Strong arms held him and a firm hand rubbed along his spine. He wasn't convinced but if his master believed he could do it he was prepared to try. Oban soaked up the comfort of his master's physical and psychic presence. "I will try, Master, but I will understand if you feel I'm not good enough."  
  
Oban's tone was humble and Qui-Gon suppressed an exasperated snort. "There is no try there is only do." He smiled wryly at Oban's startled expression. "Master Yoda can be infuriating but he is often right." He pushed Oban gently back until he was sitting against the back of the sofa. "Relax. I'm going to make us caf."  
  
Oban's emotions were roiling. Determination to be a Jedi and to be worthy of his master conflicting with his guilt over Master Temlana's death and his shame at being a sex slave. He leaned back against the cushions and took deep breaths, calming his nerves and reaching for the Force to steady his emotions.  
  
Qui-Gon felt Oban's emotional turmoil settle a little and smiled approval as he set the mugs down. Picking up his wine, he handed Oban his glass. "Obi, it is not easy to be a Jedi. Often our work involves danger and discomfort. Many people fear us, some even hate us. I can help you to be prepared but I cannot guarantee that you will always be successful." He could feel Oban's disquiet but also his trust. "We will do this Obi. Together we *will* do this."  
  
Oban let his master's conviction wash over him. He nodded gravely, "Yes, Master."  
  
They sat drinking and talking. Qui-Gon told Oban about his own experiences as an initiate and a padawan, and Oban hesitantly spoke of his few memories of his original master.  
  
When the young man fell silent Qui-Gon ruffled his fingers through Oban's hair. "We should meditate."  
  
Stripping to trousers and inner tunics the pair moved to the mat. Kneeling face to face, knees barely touching, they settled into a light trance. Feeling Oban's agitation Qui-Gon reached through the bond anchoring them together. He backed carefully out of his trance and said softly, "Reach out to the Force. Let it support you. Let your pain go." Continuing to murmur softly he led Oban deeper, sustaining and reassuring him as Oban relived the battle on the freighter, highlighting the enormous numbers of their attackers and the murky shadow in the Force that swirled around the raiders.  
  
When Oban emerged from his trance he was exhausted. He still felt grief over Master Temlana's death but the crippling guilt was gone. Approval and affection washed over him and he raised his eyes to his master. The Jedi was watching him closely, a fond smile on his lips. Oban straightened and bowed his head. "Thank you, Master." He returned the smile, "I understand I think. But I'm still not sure that I could do any better."  
  
Qui-Gon stood and offered a hand to Oban. "I doubt whether you could at this time. You have been away from us for nine years and done no further training. However you are an adult now. You have survived. There is time for you to catch up." He handed Oban the half empty glass of wine. "Part of being a padawan is learning how to face your fears...and how to look for different ways out of difficult situations. It is a time to learn many thing; about the universe, about the Force and about yourself."  
  
Oban considered his master's words. He still had doubts. He still didn't know who he was. But the words made sense to him ... and they were his master's words. He nodded, "Yes, Master."  
  
When they had both prepared for bed Qui-Gon turned to see Oban standing in the centre of the common room, his expression eloquent of indecision. "What is it, Obi?"  
  
Oban couldn't find the words to answer but his eyes shifted between the door to the padawan's room and that to his master's bedroom. Along with the soul deep conviction that he had been a padawan, the memories had brought him the realisation that his behaviour as a pleasure slave was unsuitable for a Jedi. He finally understood his master's sexual reticence towards him. He had seduced the Jedi master into an inappropriate relationship. Although he hadn't been a padawan at the time he realised now that his master had always intended that he assume that role.  
  
Now that he understood his master's reluctance Oban found that he shared it. He wanted to be with this man's lover but he wanted to be a Jedi too. Oban scoured his meagre memories and could find nothing that helped him. He had a vague recollection of classes on reproduction and sexuality ... so Jedi presumably were not celibate... but he recalled nothing regarding the morals or practices expected of him.  
  
Qui-Gon correctly interpreted the conflict on the young man's face. "You may sleep where you choose, Obi. You are welcome to join me if you wish or you may use the padawan's room. It is your room after all."  
  
Oban looked at his master. There was affection and the ghost of desire in the Jedi's expressive eyes. "I would like to join you, Master." Silly to feel so unsure after all they had done together.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled, "And I would like you to be with me, Padawan." He saw Oban's surprise at his use of the title. "There are no rules against a physical relationship between master and padawan, so long as the padawan is of age. It is entirely up to you, Obi."  
  
The words brought a frown to Oban's face. "Not entirely up to me, Master. If you don't want ... " He was swept up in a crushing embrace and kissed long and hard. Tension swept out of Oban leaving him tired and relieved.  
  
"I expressed myself badly, Obi. I meant only to assure you that you were free to chose." He rested his head on Oban's. "As my padawan you must obey me, but as my lover you are free to do as you please."  
  
Oban returned the hug, then stepped away and headed for the main bedroom. There was a sense of sleepy contentment radiating from the young man as he lay in the wide bed smiling lazily. Qui-Gon doused the lights and slid under the covers, pulling Oban against him.  
  
Drowsy and content Oban rested against his master's chest. Enjoying the peace after his emotional turmoil Oban smiled as he felt his master's lips against his ear. The smile twisted as he felt the big body shift away from him. His master's arousal was evident through the bond and Oban rolled over and slid his hand down to capture the hardening penis.  
  
"You need to sleep, Obi." Qui-Gon said shivering from the touch.  
  
Oban moved closer capturing his hand between their bodies. "You said I could do as I please, Master." He tightened his grip as he rubbed against his master's body. "This pleases me."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed as clever fingers teased him to his full length. A second hand appeared before his face and the Jedi pressed a kiss into the palm before thoroughly licking it. When the slick hand replaced the first he sighed again and wrapped his arms around Oban.  
  
They rocked together, enjoying the play of warm skin and hard muscle. Oban's mouth latched onto Qui-Gon's throat and the bigger man's head dropped back as he gasped his release.  
  
Qui-Gon held the young man tight against him while his heartbeat returned to normal. A tender smile lit his eyes as he realised that Oban had fallen asleep with his hand still clasped loosely around the softened penis. He shifted onto his back, moving Oban so that the tawny head was resting on his shoulder and opened himself to the Force.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next morning Oban was sitting at the holoviewer when Qui-Gon ended his morning meditation. The young man didn't look up as Qui-Gon headed into the bathroom but when the Jedi returned Oban asked. "Will you tell me something, Master?"  
  
"Of course. What is it." Qui-Gon moved to stand behind Oban.  
  
"That's me, isn't it?" Oban was looking at the group of padawans he had recognised earlier. He pointed to the fair haired boy in the centre of the group.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes." He turned Oban to face him. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
Oban shook his head, "Not really. It was Bant's name day ... that's all."  
  
Running his fingers through Oban's hair Qui-Gon asked, "Are you feeling all right?"  
  
Oban sighed, "I wish I could remember."  
  
"Master Schal has sent some information for you to read ... information about your age mates. He hopes it will trigger some memories." Qui-Gon handed Oban a dataslate.  
  
"We are not due to see Schal until ten, so you have time to start reading now if you want to."  
  
Oban nodded and started scrolling through the files as Qui-Gon went to dress. The information consisted of brief biographies of nearly fifty young Jedi, the data was edited to end just before the initiates were chosen as padawans. Oban read quickly through the paragraphs, many of the names triggering flashes of memory. He was almost at the end of the list when he stopped and scrolled back.  
  
*Obi-Wan Kenobi*  
  
Like so many others the name had been familiar. Oban looked at the name and frowned. He reread the information, slowly and carefully this time. It *did* seem familiar. And his master called him Obi. But there was no flash of recognition ... no instantaneous knowledge that this was the right name.  
  
He sat looking at the fair haired boy he used to be. Would he ever know who he was? Really know it in his heart and soul. The information said Obi-Wan had fallen at the age of eight and needed bacta to heal a long gash on his lower back.  
  
Qui-Gon returned to the common room to find it empty. A quick touch to the bond located Oban in the bathroom. The door was open and Qui-Gon looked in. Stripped to the waist, his back to the mirror Oban was peering over his shoulder, twisting as he tried to see his back. "Obi?"  
  
Oban's head turned to his master. "Master, do I have a scar on my back?"  
  
Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose. "Yes. There is an old scar curving across your lower back." He moved behind Oban and ran a finger along the pale, narrow mark. "Here. It is very faint."  
  
Oban closed his eyes. "Obi-Wan. My name is Obi-Wan."  
  


* * *

  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Such a small thing to remember ... two words, six syllables ... yet so profound. *Oban* was a pleasure slave who didn't remember his childhood and had been rescued by a Jedi master. *Obi-Wan Kenobi* was a Jedi padawan who had been captured by raiders when only thirteen and seen his master killed. Which was he? Was he both? Would he ever be sure? Two names ... two lives ... two identities chased each other around in his mind.  
  
The fact that one identity existed only as fragments of memory and a name helped not at all. That identity called to him, jostling with the reality he had lived with every day for the past nine years. Resolutely pushing his uncertainties aside Oban followed his master into the training room and lost himself in the joy of physical achievement.  
  
Pride mingled with dismay as Qui-Gon watched his padawan. The young man almost shimmered with the Force as he moved. Remembering his name seemed to have given Oban an equilibrium he had lacked before but it had done nothing to ease the torment of loss that still ached through the bond.  
  
His life before the Traders remained a mosaic that lacked most of its pieces Qui-Gon watched as the younger man flowed through the forms. He felt how Oban focussed on the moment, revelling in the joy of achievement and finding peace for the first time since he had relived the loss of his first master.  
  
As Oban came to a halt Qui-Gon chose a training 'sabre from the rack and tossed it across the room, igniting his own 'sabre as he stepped forward to engage the young man. Without breaking his stride Oban caught the hilt and powered the blade, meeting the master's attack as the older man bore down on him.  
  
It was the first time they had sparred using actual 'sabres. There were some similarities to working with the staves and Oban found himself reacting instinctively, blocking and deflecting his master's blade as the older man stepped up the attack.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled approval as they fought, noting Oban's natural grace and instinctive talent with the weapon. Gradually he intensified his attack until he slid his blade under the other's guard and disarmed the younger man.  
  
"Well done, Obi." Qui-Gon gripped his padawan's shoulder. "It's past time you began on your own lightsabre."  
  
Pure pleasure lit the bright eyes for a moment then they dimmed as memories and doubt flickered through the ex-slave's mind.  
  
Qui-Gon ruffled a hand through his padawan's hair, "And it's time we cut your hair. This is far too long for a padawan." He wound soft tresses around his fingers, "At least you will have a decent start on the braid."  
  
When they had returned to their quarters and were seated for noonmeal Oban summoned the courage to address one of the issues that had been preying on his mind. His eyes fixed on the plate in front of him, a there was a faint tremor in his voice, he made himself say, "I understand now why you didn't want to have sex with me, Master. I seduced you into something you believed was wrong." He swallowed and raised his eyes. "I apologise and I will understand if you wish to stop. In fact I would prefer that you did if it is not what you truly desire."  
  
"Never doubt that I desire you, Obi." Qui-Gon met the worried eyes squarely. "I have wanted you from the moment I saw you. My reticence concerned your vulnerability. Especially when I realised that you had lost so much of your memory." He reached over to take hold of his padawan's hand. "I was afraid that when you remembered you would feel I had taken advantage of you."  
  
Oban searched his master's eyes and their bond. He nodded slowly, "I understand. But I know now that this is not the Jedi way."  
  
Internally Qui-Gon cursed the Jedi obsession with presenting an unfailingly serene exterior to the world. "Some Jedi are ascetics and remain celibate Obi, but the vast majority are not. We enjoy the same relationships as anyone else. You were only thirteen when you were captured, too young to know much about intimate relationships. If you had returned from that mission you would have started Intermediate classes, including those on Sexuality and Interpersonal Relations. While Jedi generally prefer to keep our personal lives private most of us *do* have them."  
  
"With other Jedi?"  
  
"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded, "Most often with other Jedi. Many yearmates form lasting attachments, sometimes masters and padawans do and sometimes knights and masters simply find that they want a more intimate friendship with another knight or master. There is no rule about it."  
  
"But not with pleasure slaves," Oban stated bluntly.  
  
"Well, Jedi don't meet very many pleasure slaves in the normal course of things. And we certainly don't keep slaves ourselves." He lifted the hand he was holding and kissed it. "But there is no reason why an *ex* pleasure slave should be unacceptable."  
  
Oban nodded, he was not quite convinced but he let the topic go. He was having trouble reconciling his two selves.  
  
*Oban* would expect his relationship with his master to be sexual but *Obi-Wan* had a vague but definite sense that sexual relations with his master where not quite right. His inability to regain all his early memories and settle his two identities was both frustrating and unsettling.  
  


* * *

  
  
That evening Master Stanell brought a young knight to meet Oban. Telarvic s'He was on teaching rotation. Knight s'He was a gifted linguist and not so very much older than Oban. He also had a reputation for empathy and discretion. Qui-Gon had concurred wholeheartedly with the teaching master's choice and his confidence was quickly justified as it became clear that Oban had a knack for languages. Qui-Gon met Stanell's gaze with a smile as the young men took to each other easily.  
  
Over the following days both Eletha and Frensam joined them for training sessions, and Oban received a call from Bant saying she was on her way back to Coruscant and would like to catch up with him. She suggested dinner with a small group of their yearmates. After consideration and discussion with Qui- Gon, Oban sent an acceptance. Both master and padawan spent the next day and a half worrying about the meeting although Qui-Gon managed to mask his concern rather better.  
  
When his padawan left to meet with his childhood friend, Qui-Gon bid him good luck and settled at the comm unit. After some time Qui-Gon realised his concentration was wandering. He ran a careful scan of the bond and was relieved by the relaxed pleasure he sensed.  
  
For the first time in weeks Qui-Gon was alone for dinner and he decided to eat in the Master's dinning room. After choosing his dinner Qui-Gon looked around for a vacant seat. He was beckoned over to a long table near the wall and steeling himself for a grilling from his peers, Qui-Gon sat between Mace and Adi. The talk was about padawans in general and training in particular and before long Qui-Gon found himself in the midst of a lively discussion about the senior curriculum.  
  
As he left the room Qui-Gon was stopped numerous times with greetings and congratulations on his new padawan. Warmed by the reactions of his peers Qui-Gon fell into step beside Mace.  
  
The Councillor grinned at him, "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"  
  
Qui-Gon returned the smile a little wryly, "No, I suppose not."  
  
"Where's Obi-Wan?" Mace asked.  
  
"He's meeting with some of his year mates."  
  
The Councillor nodded, "Good." He patted Qui-Gon's shoulder. "You are doing a good job, Qui."  
  
Qui-Gon passed the main quadrangle on his way back to his quarters and heard the laughter and raised voices of a group of padawans. Glancing casually down he saw his padawan surrounded by half a dozen young people. Qui-Gon paused as Oban's tawny head bent to hear something one of them was saying. The ambience of the group was relaxed and cheerful and Oban was chuckling as he listened.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and continued on his way up the stairs to the next level where he could gain access to his tower. The young voices floated up to him, clear in the quiet of early night.  
  
"Tell us, Obi-Wan. What did you do?"  
  
"What was it like?"  
  
"How did Master Jinn save you? Did he buy you?"  
  
"Are you *his* now?"  
  
The questions were impertinent but the voices were friendly, innocently curious rather then invasive. Qui-Gon stopped and looked down again. The bond quivered with a trace of anxiety and Qui-Gon wondering whether he should go to his padawans aid.  
  
But Oban's calm voice floated clearly up to him. "Sometimes it was unpleasant, mostly it was just boring." The young man shrugged, "And as the Trader Clans gave me to Master Jinn, I suppose I do belong to him now, legally speaking."  
  
One of the young women sighed, "Lucky you, I think Master Jinn is gorgeous."  
  
The others laughed and teased the blushing girl. Qui- Gon smiled as he turned back towards the elevators, amused and rather flattered by the comment. He was intrigued by a stab of jealousy that flashed through the bond. Waiting for the doors to open he allowed himself the indulgence of eavesdropping further.  
  
Oban breathed a sigh of relief when the others dropped the subject but he leaned over to whisper in Jainda's ear, "So do I."  
  
Jainda replied, "I meant what I said, I think you are very lucky to be Master Jinn's padawan. And don't let anything they say bother you. It's just teasing." Her voice dropped even lower and she asked shyly, "I don't suppose you would care to join me... No, of course not. I'm sorry..." The light feminine voice trailed to an embarrassed halt.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed Oban's gentle smile and heard the softly spoken words as he stepped into the elevator. "Thank you, Jainda. I have a lover already but I'd be glad a friend."  
  
The doors closed and Qui-Gon let out a rather guilty sigh. Checking to see that his padawan was coping was one thing, listening in on a private conversation was another. Still it was reassuring to know that the lad *was* coping, and rather well. Friendships and a little admiration could only help his confidence.  
  


* * *

  
  
His master was seated reading when Oban returned. There was a thoughtful look in his eyes as he joined his master on the sofa. "Master, do you think of me as Oban or Obi-Wan?"  
  
Qui-Gon put down the 'reader and looked at the younger man. "I don't really know. When I first called you Obi it was because I had just found out who you were. I have always thought of you as a padawan." Oban's eyes were clouded. "How do you think of yourself, Obi?"  
  
"I don't know." Oban frowned. "I've been Oban as long as I can remember but Obi-Wan feels right ... feels like me." He cast a shy glance at his master. "I like it when you call me Obi ... that feels right too."  
  
Qui-Gon ran his fingers through Oban's hair and said thoughtfully, "I think that is how I think of you, as Obi ... my padawan and my lover."  
  
Oban blushed faintly. "That is how I think of myself. But Obi-Wan is ... " His voice trailed off then he said slowly, "Obi-Wan feels solid ... real ... even though I don't know much about him."  
  
"Well, officially you are Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's really up to you what you want people to call you."  
  
"The other padawan's called me Obi-Wan tonight." He smiled at his master and rubbed against the hand that was resting on his neck. "And I'm Obi to you. I guess I left Oban behind on Gatharn."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "In many ways you did, but you were Oban for almost half of your life. He will always be a part of you, there is no shame in that. You did what you had to do to survive." The young man was looking doubtful. Qui-Gon took a gentle grip on the hair that lapped over Oban's collar and changed the subject. "Time to cut this."  
  
Qui-Gon led his padawan into the bathroom and placed a stool in the centre of the room. "Sit here, Obi and take off your tunics." He draped a towel around the young man's shoulders and ran a comb through the soft, glowing hair cutting it as he worked. When he had achieved a short shaggy crop Qui-Gon reached for the clippers. "Hold on to this." He placed Oban's hand on the longer tail he had left behind one ear and proceeded to run the clippers over Oban's head until he was left with an even spiky covering.  
  
"There." Qui-Gon put aside the clippers and carefully removed the towel, shaking the loose hair into the disposal unit. Moving to kneel before his padawan, Qui-Gon ran the comb through the little tail of longer hair.  
  
Oban stared mesmerised at his master. He watched as the older man snipped a lock of hair from his own head and mingle it with Oban's shorter lock, fusing the hair together with the Force. Then his master began to plait the combined hair. The large, blunt fingers were impossibly deft as they worked the fine hair into a narrow braid and bound it with a thin red cord near the end.  
  
Qui-Gon ran the finished braid through his fingers and let it fall over the younger man's smooth, pale shoulder. "My padawan." He raised the lad from the stool and stood behind him as they both looked into the mirror.  
  
"Yes." Oban breathed, "Your padawan." He stared at their reflection ... Master and Padawan ... Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi- Wan Kenobi. *Obi-Wan* he thought, *I am Obi-Wan.* He met his master's eyes in the mirror ... blazing aquamarine meeting indigo velvet ... then his gaze lowered to the big hands that rested on his bare shoulders. With a wicked grin, he raised his eyes again and undid the fastenings on his trousers letting them slither down his hips and pool over the light boots he was still wearing.  
  
Qui-Gon had been drinking in the image of the half dressed youth, his emotions finely balanced between pride in his padawan and desire for his lover when he felt the mischief and lust through the bond. Suddenly he was confronted by the sight of a lean, graceful, *naked* Obi framed against his own larger, fully clothed body. With a low growl Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his padawan.  
  
Obi-Wan tipped his head back in invitation and opened his mouth to the insistent lips and probing tongue of his master. After an endless moment Qui-Gon raised his head and murmured. "Take off your boots."  
  
Obi-Wan sat on the stool again and did as he was told. He was then swept up and carried into their bedroom where, instead of being placed on the bed, his master set him down in front of the full-length mirror. In seconds the Jedi master had shed his clothes.  
  
Once again they stood staring at their reflection. Obi- Wan watched his master's hands skim over his body, watched himself arch into the firm, sensual touch. His master bent to lick and kiss Obi-Wan's throat and he watched as his head fell back to lean against the powerful body that held him. One large hand was roaming over his chest, flicking over a nipple then shifting to tease the sensitive skin covering his ribs. The other hand moved lower sliding along the crease between hip and thigh.  
  
It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, his master's hand closing deliberately around his genitals, cupping his testicles and gently squeezing before taking his cock in his grasp and slowly caressing the crown with his thumb.  
  
Qui-Gon bit softly at Obi-Wan's ear and then looked up. The young man's eyes were glazed and hungry, his lips parted as he panted and moaned. The sight of the strong, slender body moving restlessly against him was overwhelmingly seductive. Qui-Gon's hips moved involuntarily to press his erection against the smooth skin of his padawan's lower back.  
  
Obi-Wan gasped and arched against his master, his hands reaching up and taking hold of the mane that was spilling over him. "Master." He sighed and rubbed his head against his master's shoulder. With an inarticulate growl Qui-Gon turned towards the bed but Obi-Wan took two steps and bent forward until he leaning on the tall chest of drawers his back arched, his head resting on his arms. Letting every nuance of his love and desire flood through the bond Obi-Wan deliberately moved his feet further apart.  
  
Confronted by the sight of the pale golden body offered to him Qui-Gon abandoned all thought of taking his padawan to bed. In a second he had the small vial of oil and was anointing his own flesh and his padawan's. He ran a possessive hand down the curved spine and over rounded buttocks. He was taking his padawan where he stood.  
  
Abandoning himself to the sensation Obi-Wan arched and purred as gentle, insistent fingers stroked and teased. A whimper escaped him as the fingers slid inside, then a pleased sigh as his hips were grasped and the warm, blunt pressure of his master's cock touched him. "Yes! Master, yes." He pushed back into the invasion, squirming and shaking, desperate to have this joining.  
  
Qui-Gon's head fell forward to rest on his padawan's shoulder as he was drawn deeper and felt the eager young body tighten around him. He kissed the exposed neck and moaned, "Padawan ... Obi," as he his body surged forward.  
  
Obi-Wan turned his head and claimed his master's mouth the soft voice and passionate touch filling him with joy. He moaned against the mouth that claimed him as his body was filled with exquisite pleasure. Pleasure, pride, security, comfort, the sensations rippled through him as he felt his master's climax.  
  
"Beloved." Qui-Gon breathed as he gathered his padawan and moved them both to the bed. He ran his fingers through the drying semen on Obi's thighs, rubbing the liquid into his skin then bending to press a kiss on the now quiescent cock.  
  
*Beloved* Obi-Wan hugged the whispered word to his heart. He didn't think his master was aware he had said it but he could feel the older man's emotions, feel the possessive affection and need and for the moment it was enough.  
  


* * *

  
  
In the six weeks since Obi-Wan had arrived on Coruscant he had firmly established as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan in the eyes of the Council - and of the other Jedi he supposed - but sometimes Obi-Wan still felt it was too good to be true. He found himself wondering whether he would wake up back in the harem, just a body to be used by the next favoured guest or given to a court official as a 'thank you' for work well done.  
  
Sometimes he woke at night disoriented; starting from his sleep as he strained to hear the faint sounds of the harem, staring bewildered at the honey-coloured walls, searching for the familiar drapes that curtained his tiny cot from the others in the sleeping hall. At these times he slid out of bed and walked around the suite of rooms, running his fingers over the pale walls, stroking his master's robe and breathing in the comforting scent, picking up the little curios that littered various surfaces, trying desperately to fix the place in his memory. Sometimes his master woke and joined him, wrapping him in a huge embrace and sipping hot choa in the dim light before drawing him gently back to their big bed.  
  
He was Obi-Wan ... he *knew* he was ... but in most of his memories he was Oban and sometimes he was overcome by the incongruity of a pleasure slave who was a Jedi apprentice. Still his master didn't seem to mind so he mostly pushed his anxieties aside and immersed himself in his new life.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon kept his attention on the corridors before him but his inner focus was on his padawan as they walked through the Senate complex. Obi-Wan had adapted to life as a padawan with remarkable ease and the master found himself filled with pride and affection as he walked beside the young man.  
  
The Council had decided that, since Qui-Gon was going to be confined to Coruscant while his padawan caught up on his training, he should take on the role Senate Liaison. Chancellor Valorum was delighted to have his old friend in the position and the Senate as a whole was flattered to be allocated the services of one of the most senior and experienced Jedi Masters. Qui- Gon had agreed to the assignment on the proviso that his padawan accompany him, and after a short deliberation the Council had agreed.  
  
Obi-Wan was a little nervous at first but he quickly became fascinated by the sight of his master at work. It amused him how similar these events were to social functions he had attended on Gatharn and he was pleased to find that the skills he had gained in judging character seemed to hold true here at the centre of the Republic. He mused over the irony of something good and useful arising from his time as a pleasure slave.  
  
Obi-Wan had become a familiar sight at Qui-Gon's side and, while there were some who still looked at him askance, in general the curiosity had subsided. He had begun to mingle with other Jedi a little though he still felt uncertain with anyone but his own small group of friends or his master's even smaller circle.  
  
His days were filled with training, meditation and a variety of classes as well as his sessions with Master Schal. Any spare time was spent with his yearmates or with extra study. Obi-Wan revelled in his new life but he missed the early days when he had spent every moment alone with his master.  
  
Walking through the corridors, hands folded together inside the wide sleeves of his robe, head bent slightly forward, expression grave and serene, Obi-Wan was the image of a perfect padawan.  
  
They were on their way to a reception for incoming senators and delegates. It was a largely ceremonial occasion but Qui-Gon felt it was a good opportunity for Obi-Wan to observe a substantial number of the senators in one place.  
  
As they approached the reception rooms Qui-Gon paused and laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Ready, Padawan?"  
  
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded, straightening his spine and smiling.  
  
The reception was being held in an immense hall high in the Senate complex with floor to ceiling windows that opened on a spectacular view over the endless city scape. Their role was simple, they were there to represent the Jedi, to meet as many delegates and senators as possible and to assess the character of the new senators and their alliances. As Obi-Wan was a novice padawan he would remain at his master's side, quietly observing while Qui-Gon did the rounds and discreetly fed him information about the beings they met.  
  
The atmosphere in the reception hall was vibrant, resonating with the auras of the multitude of beings. Obi-Wan was focussing on various individuals and groups, carefully following the interweaving strands of energy and trying to refine his ability to assess mood through the Force. They had been circulating among the guests for some time when Obi-Wan began to feel uneasy. His master had stopped to talk with a group of Senators and Obi-Wan let his Force sense range a little wider. He was following an energy strand, observing how it flowed and rippled as it interacted with other strands, when he had a sensation of falling. For a moment he was skating over a cold, glassy surface. Disoriented and shaken he drew his attention back to his master, shivering as he moved closer and reached out to the older man for reassurance.  
  
Sensing Obi-Wan's disquiet Qui-Gon sent a query through their bond as he excused himself from the conversation and drew his padawan aside. "What is it, Obi?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Master. I thought I felt something ... wrong in the Force," Obi-Wan apologised.  
  
Qui-Gon extended his focus into the room and frowned. "I see what you mean. Well done, Padawan." He cast an appraising eye across the room. "I want you to move around the room and check on the currents. Perhaps you could fetch us drinks."  
  
He watched as his padawan wandered off then turned back to the gathering and began to make his own leisurely way through the throng. Effortlessly making small talk while the major part of his brain assessed the strange fluctuations and eddies in the Force Qui-Gon had covered a large arc around the room when the Ahselaatii Senator approached him.  
  
"Master Jinn, I wish to make known to you Seviti Kadnela, head of the Vendean delegation."  
  
Qui-Gon bowed and murmured the appropriate greetings. Vendea Prime was one of several governments that were petitioning for admission to the Republic. They were discussing the hopes of the Vendean Federation when the Senator's attention was claimed by an aide.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan heading back towards him and was about to excuse himself when the Vendean delegate said, "You have excellent taste, Master Jinn. I wasn't aware that the boy was available or I would have made a bid myself." Unaware that the tall Jedi was glaring down at him the delegate watched as Obi-Wan drew near. "An exceptionally talented boy too, as I recall."  
  
The note of lascivious reflection made Qui-Gon's skin crawl. He felt a spike of panic flash through Obi-Wan as the young man recognized the Vendean. Faltering, Obi-Wan's eyes flew to Qui-Gon's face. Pouring his love and support through the bond, Qui-Gon stretched his hand out to beckon the young man closer. Placing a warm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder he said, "Obi-Wan is my padawan."  
  
"Really?" The lecherous voice was amused, "I didn't think Jedi kept pleasure slaves."  
  
"We don't." Qui-Gon's voice was cold. "Slavery of all kinds is illegal in the Republic and is personally abhorrent to me." Qui-Gon took the glass from Obi-Wan's hand. "Thank you, Padawan. This is the head the Vendean delegation, Siviti Kadnela. My apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."  
  
The Vendean delegate stared up into the Jedi master's fierce eyes and raised his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry. My mistake. Pleased to meet you *Jedi* Kenobi." The words were conciliatory but the underlying tone was mocking and it turned harshly lewd when he said Obi-Wan's name.  
  
His hands tightly clenched in his sleeves Obi-Wan managed to bow politely and shifted closer to his master. Qui- Gon could feel the young man's fear and shame. He placed a firm hand on his padawan's lower back as he bade a curt farewell and steered Obi-Wan away.  
  
Qui-Gon led the way around the edge of the room and slipped out into the corridor. He could feel the tremors that were running through Obi-Wan. The lad's face had turned a sickly grey and he pressed a shaking hand to his mouth. Spying a washroom at the end of the corridor Qui-Gon hurried to it, pushing the door open just in time. Obi-Wan staggered in and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.  
  
Sealing the door behind them, Qui-Gon knelt and placed a comforting arm around Obi-Wan's heaving shoulders. He gathered the young man up and moved him to a bench in the outer room. A glass of water and a little Force settled Obi- Wan's stomach. Qui-Gon held him until the tremors eased, gently stroking his hair and murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan whispered.  
  
Qui-Gon squatted in front of his padawan. "Obi, you don't have to apologise for being sick." He drew Obi-Wan to his feet. "We need to talk about what happened but this isn't the place. They will be taking a break shortly. There is a longish gap before the next session, let's get back to our quarters."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded miserably and fell in step beside his master. Coming face to face with the Vendean when he was already disturbed by the oddness in the Force had severely unsettled Obi-Wan. As they paced silently to the shuttle platform Obi-Wan berated himself for his loss of control. How could he be so stupid and naive? Thinking that he had left his life as a pleasure slave behind just because he had left Gatharn.  
  
Feeling his padawans agitation, Qui-Gon flooded the bond with reassurance and as they entered the Temple shuttle he placed a warm hand on Obi-Wan's back. There were several other people in the little transport vehicle so he drew Obi-Wan to sit beside him, keeping his hand pressed comfortingly against the lad's spine.  
  
When they finally reached their rooms Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan gently onto the sofa and brushed a light kiss across his padawan's forehead before heading into the kitchen. He returned with two steaming mugs of cha and sat beside the young man. "Can you talk about it, Obi?"  
  
Taking a shaky breath, Obi-Wan nodded and said slowly, "The Vendeans trade with the Clans sometimes. I don't think it is a close association but every twenty months or so they used to appear on Gatharn." He closed his eyes and swallowed, fighting the bile that was threatening to rise again.  
  
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand, "And you were required to 'entertain' them."  
  
Nodding, Obi-Wan said haltingly, "The leader ... that one at the reception ... he ... I ... " A shudder of revulsion swept through him, "After the first time he always asked for me. The guards were pleased, they said I should be flattered." Obi-Wan's elegant voice was harsh as he forced the words out. "He liked to hurt me. He said ... he ..." Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled the shivering youth into his arms. Rubbing his hands across Obi-Wan's shoulders and down his spine the master murmured, "You're safe now, Obi. It's all right. Let it go. I won't let him hurt you."  
  
Clutching desperately at his master, burrowing closer to the strong presence that offered safety and comfort, Obi-Wan pressed his face against a broad shoulder and whispered, "He said I was beautiful when I screamed."  
  
In his distress Obi-Wan's shields were forgotten and Qui-Gon saw anguished flashes of the pain and humiliation his padawan had suffered at the hands of the Vendean delegate and a multitude of anonymous men. Qui-Gon closed his eyes against his tears. He held Obi-Wan, rocking him slowly back and forth and murmuring comfort as he carefully slipped into the unshielded mind and pushed the memories back, smothering them with his love and support and reiterating his belief in Obi- Wan's strength and integrity.  
  
Obi-Wan gave one last convulsive shudder then he sat up dashing his hands across his eyes. "Why would anyone do that? Why would he want to hurt someone?" He got to his feet and began pacing.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled sadly, "I can't answer that, Obi." He watched as Obi-Wan prowled up and down the length of the room. "You have to let it go, Padawan."  
  
"Let it go!" Obi-Wan snarled. "I want to ... " his hands flew in agitation, "I don't know what I want to do. Hurt him." He spat the words then stopped and stared at his master. "He's doing it to others isn't he? I'm not the only one." Obi-Wan was horrified at the realisation.  
  
"Probably not," Qui-Gon agreed.  
  
"I want to stop him hurting anyone else. Can we stop him, Master?"  
  
"Probably not," Qui-Gon said again. "We can stop him becoming a Senator. You could bring charges against him but he was under the aegis of the Trade Clans and they are not subject to Republic law. Gatharn may be forced to officially ban the Clans but we both know that unofficially they would continue to support them and most of the Clans' activity is conducted outside Republic territory anyway."  
  
Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped. "And even if we stopped this one there are thousands just like him. It's useless ... hopeless."  
  
Qui-Gon hugged the younger man again. "It is never useless to fight against cruelty and corruption. Even if sometimes it seems as though the gains are very small and a long time coming." He tugged gently on Obi-Wan's braid. "So, my Padawan, there is something I want you to do."  
  
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured dejectedly.  
  
Qui-Gon sat him at the comm terminal and called up the Temple archives. "While I am at the afternoon session I want you to find everything you can about the Vendeans. You might find the Senate archives useful too. You will need this." He put his security chip on the desk. "I am especially interested in their alliances and technology, but find out as much as you can ... society, culture, religion, history ... anything."  
  
"What am I looking for?"  
  
"I'm not really sure. I just have a feeling..." Qui-Gon tapped his fingers on the side of the terminal thoughtfully. "You felt it in the reception hall. That 'wrongness' in the Force. I'm sure I've felt it before ... I just can't place it." Puting his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder Qui-Gon looked into his padawan's eyes and was relieved to see curiosity pushing aside the misery. "This session is purely ceremonial. We should have time to spar before dinner."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded and smiled as waves of affection washed over him. He pressed a quick kiss to the hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon tipped Obi-Wan's chin up and kissed him lingeringly, then picking up his robe he headed back to the Senate complex.  
  


* * *

  
  
For some time after his master had left Obi-Wan sat staring at the screen. He was dismayed by his reaction to the Vendean. Yes, the man had treated him vilely but he was by no means the only one who had and *Oban* had surely come to terms with that aspect of his life. He wandered into the kitchen to fetch a mug of caf. Either Oban wasn't as reconciled to his life as he had thought, or Obi-Wan's reactions were rather different to Oban's.  
  
He was pondering the question as he went back to the terminal and initiated a search for the information his master had requested. When he was given to the Jedi Master he had felt relief at escaping the harem and only having to serve one man. He had immediately sensed that he was safe with his new master but he had certainly expected that he would be at the sexual whim of the Jedi. Indeed, when his master made it clear that he was not wanted in that way Oban had been bewildered and afraid.  
  
A reminiscent smile lit Obi-Wan's face as he thought of those days on the transport ship and remembered how confused he had been. The kindness his new master had shown him and the gentleness had astonished and enchanted him.  
  
This was the answer, Obi-Wan decided, his master had shown him what it was to be treated with care and dignity, until then Oban had simply expected treated as a possession. It had never occurred to him that his feelings mattered. Being confronted with a tangible reminder of his past had been shocking, especially as the man clearly believed that Obi-Wan was filling the role in the Jedi's life that Oban had filled in the Vendean's.  
  
Obi-Wan began reading through the information on the screen. He hoped he would find time to meditate but at the moment his master was relying on him to find something useful. His personal concerns would have to wait.  
  
Since arriving at the Temple and taking classes with Master Stannell Obi-Wan had discovered that he was able to absorb information quickly and easily. Taking his mug in one hand he scrolled through the information, jotting notes on a dataslate. At the end of several hours he thought he had a fair idea of the history and culture of Vendea. They seemed to be an entirely unremarkable people, developing in the usual ways, fighting amongst themselves, discovering space flight. They appeared to be primarily concerned with pleasure but that was hardly an unusual trait.  
  
Obi-Wan thought he might just have time to meditate before his master returned. He saved the files he had accessed and settled cross-legged on the rug.  
  


* * *

  
  
Qui-Gon's mood was thoughtful as he returned to his quarters. That strange 'wrongness' in the Force was evident again during the afternoon session. It had ebbed and flowed and he had been unable to establish any pattern to its appearance. That was not entirely unexpected however in a room containing several hundred beings who were interacting with each other in ever changing ways. Besides, the sense of wrongness was faint and elusive. Qui-Gon wasn't sure that he would have noticed it at all if his padawan hadn't drawn his attention to it, and if he hadn't felt it before somewhere.  
  
It was his sense that it was familiar that most played on Qui-Gon's mind. There was a faint frown on his face as he walked through the Temple trying to place the sensation. Qui-Gon was almost home when he realised where he had felt something similar. Gatharn. It was similar, though not identical to, the presence he had felt in the Force on Gatharn. His frown deepened. But that was Obi-Wan. He had sensed the lad in the Force several times before he actually met him, and this sensation was nothing like his padawan's aura.  
  
And then it hit him. The collar! Was someone in the reception wearing a Force dampening collar? And if so, why?  
  
Pleased at having at least begun to solve the puzzle, Qui- Gon opened the door and smiled at the sight of his padawan meditating in a patch of late afternoon sunlight. The aura the young man was radiating was calm and centred Qui-Gon noted with approval as he brushed a mental caress over the lad.  
  
They did indeed have time to spar before dinner and both men felt better as the physical activity worked the residual tension out of their muscles. There was a brief surge in the Force as they trained suggesting that they were being observed, but when Qui-Gon glanced up at the gallery it was empty.  
  
Obi-Wan's abilities were improving day by day and he flashed a pleased smile when Qui-Gon praised him as they left the room. The older man privately thought that no-one who saw the lad fight could mistake Obi-Wan for anything other than a Jedi. The difference between the ex-slave who was unable to take the offensive and the confident padawan who could meet, if not yet exceed, anything his master threw at him, was staggering.  
  
As they returned to their quarters Obi-Wan outlined what he had learned about the Vendeans. Qui-Gon asked, "What is their association with the Ahselaatii?"  
  
"The Ahselaatii appear to have stumbled across Vendea. The Vendeans were rather less advanced technologically. The association was formed because Vendea has deposits of some of the rarer minerals and precious stones." Obi-Wan shrugged, "Frankly I would say the Ahselaatii are humouring the Vendeans with this bid to join the Republic. All the information suggests that the Vendeans are very much junior partners in the relationship."  
  
"Interesting." Qui-Gon nodded. "Do you know whether the Ahselaatii have any connection with the Trade Clans?"  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head. They had reached their quarters and Qui-Gon was telling him his theory about the disturbance in the Force as they entered. There was a message on the comm unit and Qui-Gon went to read it as Obi-Wan headed towards the kitchen.  
  
Obi-Wan felt the disgust and anger surge from his master. He paused and turned hesitantly, "Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, willing the emotions to fade. "It's from the Vendean delegate."  
  
"May I read it, Master?" Obi-Wan asked warily.  
  
"Certainly, if you wish to. It's about you after all." Obi-Wan moved to stand beside his master and read the message.  
  
It was brief. **Master Jinn. As your padawan is an old friend of mine, I wonder of you would allow him to spend some time with me while I am on Coruscant? Siviti Kadnela.**  
  
"An old friend!" Obi-Wan exclaimed looking up from the screen. "Is he a fool?"  
  
Qui-Gon was relieved to hear indignation rather than fear in his padawan's voice. "Do you want to answer it, Obi, or shall I?"  
  
Obi-Wan's fingers flew over the terminal. "Allow me, Master."  
  
**Siviti Kadnela. I have no wish to spend any time in your presence. Obi-Wan Kenobi.**  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and sent the reply. "Brief and to the point, my Padawan."  
  
"What else is there to say." Obi-Wan put his arms around his master's waist. "Thank you, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon laid an arm across his shoulders and drew the young man towards the bathroom. "It would save time if we showered together," he teased.  
  
"I suppose it would, Master." Obi-Wan looked up and was caught in a deep, luxurious kiss. He moaned softly into the plundering mouth and gasped as his back connected with the shower screen. Reaching behind himself to turn on the water, Obi-Wan shivered as his clothes were stripped from his body and tossed onto the floor.  
  
Naked, Obi-Wan drew back and watched through slitted eyes as his master shed his own clothing. One large hand reached out and curled around his skull.  
  
"He is never going to touch you again, Obi." Qui-Gon's soft voice was like velvet.  
  
"No one but you, Master." Obi-Wan whispered. He stepped under the warm water and held out his hand. "Touch me, Master."  
  
With a soft growl, Qui-Gon joined his padawan under the cascading water. His hands stroked down water slicked sides to cup genitals and buttocks. He bent and softly bit the bared neck as Obi-Wan's head sagged forward and the young man sighed happily against his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan folded his hands in his lap and forced his eyes away from the slim box in the healer's hands. "Go ahead, Master Schal."

The assembled Jedi watched as the healer slid open the catch and lifted the lid. As soon as the seal was broken there was a noticeable shift in the Force currents within the room.

Inside the box lay a simple golden band of metal. Perfectly plain, the circlet gleamed dully in the light of Schal's office. One of the clasps had been detached and lay loose in the box. It seemed an unlikely object to be the focus of four members of the Jedi High Council.

Master Windu took the box from Schal's hand and inspected its contents closely.

Schal spoke into the tense silence. "The collar muffles and distorts the Force around it. When it is placed against the skin of a Force user it severs the connection entirely." He nodded towards Obi-Wan. "Padawan Kenobi can attest to its full *potential*, but I have touched the thing, as has Master Jinn,  
and we can assure you that it is a profoundly unpleasant experience, physically as well as mentally. Obi-Wan wore the collar around his throat for nine years. That he survived at all could be considered remarkable, that he survived sane is almost unbelievable. It speaks volumes for his strength and tenacity."

Obi-Wan blushed faintly as the other Jedi turned to look at him, several bowing their heads in acknowledgment and support.

Mace touched the collar with a cautious finger. He recoiled from the cold pain that stabbed along his nerves. "I see what you mean Master Schal," he said dryly as he handed the collar to Yoda. "Is the physical pain related to the psychic effect?"

Schal nodded, "We believe so. It is akin to an electric shock, but we have not discovered what actually causes the pain."

Qui-Gon said softly, "Obi-Wan's throat had become numb from chin to collar bone."

Yoda held the box for a long time, staring at the collar, his eyes slitted as he probed the artifact. Finally he handed the box to Adi Gallia without comment, his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan with a look compounded of respect and sympathy. Adi's hand hovered before she too placed a finger to the collar, grimacing at  
the contact before handing it on to Eeth Koth, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

As each Jedi inspected the collar Schal continued. He explained that the collar was made from an amalgam of metals, but was primarily gold, and that the Force dampening effect came from a core of crystals running through the centre of the circlet. He turned to the scientist who had been investigating the  
collar, "Tethik will tell you what little we know about the crystals."

The Cerean biophysicist opened a smaller box and displayed a scattering of tiny bluish crystals. "We removed these from the collar for testing. They have properties similar to the crystals we use in our 'sabres. Individually they set up a resonance that causes a distortion in the Force. When they are placed in contact with each other the effect is magnified."

The crystals were also passed around for inspection. Qui-Gon tipped them into the palm of his hand. There was a tingling sensation, almost an itch, but no pain.

Schal met his questioning look. "We believe that the crystals may be aligned in a particular way in the collar to cause the dampening effects, although it is possible that there is something about the combination of crystals and metal."

Tethik nodded. "There are traces of an unfamiliar metal in the alloy."

Mace mused. "And Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sensed a similar disturbance at the Senate building yesterday?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon confirmed. "Obi-Wan sensed it first. It was very faint, but there was a definite warping in the Force."

"You think someone was wearing a collar?" Mace asked.

"No." Qui-Gon shook his head slowly. "On Gatharn I could sense that there was a Force adept nearby. It was muffled and elusive but there was a definite feeling of sentience. At the Reception it was more like a disturbance in the flow of the Force. There was no sense of a Force user." He turned to his  
padawan, "Obi?"

Obi-Wan gestured at the collar, "When I was wearing *that* I could barely sense the Force at all. I have never felt anything similar to what I felt at the reception yesterday and here today." His hand moved and unconsciously rubbed his neck.

There was silence as they considered the information. Finally Mace said, "So it appears that there was someone wearing or carrying these crystals at the Senate building yesterday."

Schal nodded, "That's what we think." He added grimly, "And the Vendean delegate tried to arrange a meeting with Obi-Wan."

Adi Gallia frowned, "You don't think he would be foolish enough to try to kidnap Obi-Wan again?" She smiled reassuringly at the padawan. "It would be impossible. And he must know that the attempt would damage his bid for a Senate position"

Qui-Gon placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "The Vendeans are new to Coruscant. I sensed...attraction...to Obi-Wan rather than hostility." The hand squeezed gently, "Whatever Kadnela's motives we need to find out more about the crystals and who has them here on Coruscant."

Yoda nodded, "Learn more about this we must. Also protect our own." The little master nodded to Obi-Wan, "Safe with Qui-Gon you are, padawan."

Mace agreed, "I believe we would be wise to attend tonight's Gala. Qui-Gon said the disturbance was elusive. The more Jedi we have searching the more likely we are to find the source." He turned to Obi-Wan, "And the less likely it will be that anyone endangers Padawan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully but he said, "I was wondering whether they would try to find another Force sensitive, a younger one perhaps, someone more vulnerable."

The knowledge of what Obi-Wan had been subjected to showed on each face as the possibility of a further kidnapping sank in.

Adi nodded, "That is a good point, Padawan. I will investigate whether there have been any other disappearances reported. Not all Force users become Jedi."

"And in the meantime we will attend the Gala with Master Jinn and his padawan." When the others agreed, he stood, "Good. We have felt the effects of the collar and the crystals. I'm sure Master Schal will answer any further questions that arise."

As Councillors left Qui-Gon shot a concerned look at his padawan. "How do you feel, Obi?"

Obi-Wan sighed, "I wish he'd never come to Coruscant, he makes me feel sick." He squared his shoulders. "But I want to find out what is going on. I am not going to let him destroy my new life."

* * *

  
  
The afternoon was spent in an office near Chancellor Valorum's. The Senators and Delegates had broken into small groups to discuss policy and negotiate alliances and Qui-Gon was on call to mediate any disagreements that arose.  
  
When Obi-Wan's initial shock began to fade, his fear was replaced with anger. Anger at the treatment he had received at the Vendean's hands on Gatharn and at the delegate's behaviour here on Coruscant. He mediated on the negative emotions, feeling the icy grip of fear slowly ease and the anger fade to  
fierce determination.  
  
As the tension flowed out of him it was replaced by the warm security of his master's love and support. Obi-Wan felt the delicate link between them firm and deepen.  
  
Qui-Gon returned from an arbitration session, to find his padawan seated in a wide lounge chair, a 'reader in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. He shed his robe and ran a caressing hand over the soft, spiky hair as he went to pour himself a drink. "Astrophysics again?"  
  
"I wish!" Obi-wan set the 'reader down. "Master Stanell set me a batch of philosophy texts to read. I'm half way through Bran Selavec's treatise on reality and meaning."  
  
Qui-Gon sank into the chair opposite with a wry grimace. "Heavy going. Though if I recall rightly there are some intriguing ideas amongst all that stodge."  
  
"I suppose so," Obi-Wan conceded reluctantly, "I just wish someone had done an 'edited highlights' version." Putting down his glass he lifted his eyes and smiled into the older man's warm blue gaze. "Master, may I ask you something?"  
  
"You may ask me anything, Padawan." Returning the smile he rebuked the young man gently, "I should hope you know that by now."  
  
Obi-Wan grinned sheepishly, "Yes, Master. I do really but... I wanted to ask about anger. I have been meditating on how I feel about Siviti Kadnela. I understand my fear and I can let it go but the anger..." He sighed, "No matter how much I meditate I cannot release all the anger."  
  
"Not all anger is bad, Padawan. Anger at injustice and cruelty is perfectly normal, even healthy." Qui-Gon watched the younger man ponder his words. "It is when you allow anger to overwhelm you, or to dictate your actions, that it becomes destructive. I would be concerned if you had no anger at all about the way you were treated." He asked gently, " Has Master Schal talked about this?"  
  
"A little. He has asked whether I felt angry several times." Obi-Wan thought back on his conversations with the healer. "This is the first time I have really. Until now I was glad that I was away from the Clans but I just sort of accepted what they did as an unpleasant fact of life."  
  
"But that doesn't alter the fact that it was a violation of your rights and of you personally." Qui-Gon reached across to lay his hand on Obi-Wan's knee. "You should talk to Master Schal about this. We can work on it too if you want. A certain amount of anger is understandable in this situation. Just don't  
let it overwhelm you."  
  
Qui-Gon moved to pour cha from the samovar on the sideboard handing the delicate porcelain cup to his padawan. "Remember you are a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You can defend yourself." He smiled, "Besides, there with be six other Jedi at the gala tonight. You will be perfectly safe."  
  


* * *

  
  
Obi-Wan sent a quick glance around the room as he entered at his master's side. He could sense the other Jedi among the throng of Senators and Diplomats and immediately felt them include himself and his master in a web of mutual awareness. Confident in the knowledge that he was connected to the other Jedi, Obi-Wan relaxed and reached out to sense the Force currents in the room.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled inwardly as he felt his padawan join easily with his fellow Jedi. Although Obi-Wan remained close the lad was not fixed to his side as he had been on the previous evening. Last night the Vendean delegate had continually hovered on the edge of their vision, clearly waiting for an opportunity to approach Obi-Wan. The padawan had remained within inches of Qui-Gon all evening, clinging to their bond in an almost frantic fashion. This evening the touch was firm but calm. Qui-Gon sent a mental caress along the link and was rewarded with a surge of love and gratitude.  
  
The disturbance in the Force was immediately evident. Qui-Gon slowly manoeuvred in the general direction of the group around the Ahselaatii Senator which included a number of aides as well as most of the small Vendean delegation.  
  
The Senator beamed at the Jedi. "Master Jinn! You can settle a disagreement among my staff. Was Chancellor Valorum trained in the Jedi Temple?"  
  
"To be a Jedi? No. But he has been a regular visitor since he first joined the Senate. He frequently seeks the Council's advice. And I believe Master Yoda taught him to meditate." Qui-Gon maintained the conversation while opening himself to the Force. The fluctuations were certainly strong around the group but they did not appear to be centred on Kadnela.  
  
Obi-Wan had shifted a little closer to his master as they approached the Ahselaatii group. He felt Kadnela approach him he and, under cover of his own robes, took hold of a fold of his master's robe before turning and bowing politely to the Vendean.  
  
"So, Oban. You are a Jedi apprentice now." The delegate's voice was low and oily. "A fine thing for a pleasure slave. And does Mater Jinn approve of your past? Or is this the Jedi way of circumventing the Republic's squeamishness about slavery?" The Vendean's eyes ran over Obi-Wan. "I don't think  
much of the uniform. If you were mine I'd show you off. But how convenient to have a young apprentice all to yourself. Is he your master in all things? Does he make use of *all* your talents?"  
  
The insinuating voice slid over Obi-Wan as the hateful words dug tiny barbs into his mind. He felt icy fingers twist his gut, sending tremors through his limbs. Suddenly his master was in his mind, warm and fierce, and a big hand took hold of the fingers that were twisted in his robe. The sense of security and affectionate approval dispersed his shame and fear.  
  
Kadnela's voice was still slithering in his ear, "Does he prefer you mouth or your arse? But then, since you're his apprentice... his *padawan*... he can do as he pleases can't he? I'm sure he has them both."  
  
With a firm but restrained motion Obi-Wan used the Force to edge the delegate away from him. He met the Vendean's eyes squarely. "Kadnela Ves, I don't believe my position as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan is any concern of yours. I have made it clear that I don't wish for your company, please respect that wish." He bowed again and turned back to his master keeping a Force shield around their backs to prevented the delegate from touching them.  
  
They remained with the Ahselaatii group for several more minutes before Qui-Gon took his leave and moved with Obi-Wan towards the other side of the room. Using the ambient noise in the room as cover Qui-Gon murmured, "You handled that very well, Obi."  
  
"Thank you, Master. Your support was timely. My emotions might have got the better of me."  
  
"You don't have to face the world alone, Obi. We support and protect each other, my Padawan." Qui-Gon took two glasses of wine from a server droid. Handing one to Obi-Wan he asked, "Did you sense that Kadnela was causing the disturbance?"  
  
Obi-Wan frowned as he shook his head. "No. The disturbance was close by but I don't think it came from him."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, "I agree. I didn't sense anything from the Vendean." He raised an eyebrow and said drily, "...except an offensive manner."  
  


* * *

  
  
When they compared notes next morning the Jedi who had attended the Senate function were agreed that the fluctuations in the Force came from members of the Ahselaatii mission.  
  
Adi Gallia frowned. "The Ahselaatii have been members of the Republic for centuries. There has never been any suggestion that they use Force dampening technology or have been involved in any criminal behaviour."  
  
Mace agreed, "And there has never been any hint of darkness."  
  
"I don't think they were involved in Obi-Wan's capture or his subsequent slavery," Master Schal said thoughtfully. He turned to the padawan, "Did you ever encountered the Ahselaatii on Gatharn, Obi-Wan?"  
  
The padawan shook his head. "No. I had never heard of them before yesterday."  
  
"Ahselaa is halfway across the galaxy from Gatharn." Mace was flicking through data. "There is no mention of the Ahselaatii in the Gatharn submission for acceptance." He frowned at the screen before turning to the others. "We need to consult with the Chancellor but I think our next step should be to ask the Senator about the crystals."  
  
Obi-Wan was startled into exclaiming, "Ask him! Just like that?"  
  
A fleeting smile lit Mace's lips but he explained calmly, "There is every possibility that the Ahselaatii have no idea of the crystals properties. They rarely have a high midichlorian count. I don't believe there has been an Ahselaatii Jedi, or initiate, in generations."  
  
Obi-Wan was about to say more but his master caught his eye and shook his head. "Obi believes that the relationship between them is that of patron and client rather than allies." Qui-Gon looked questioningly at his padawan.  
  
The young man nodded, "The research I did yesterday suggests that the Vedean are not as advanced as the Ahselaatii." Obi-Wan frowned, "I just find it hard to believe that the Vendeans would have technology that is unknown to the Ahselaatii."  
  
Master Schal tapped his finger on the lid of the box holding the slave collar. "The technology involved here isn't very complex. What interests me is why it was developed. I mean - why kidnap a Force user and then collar him so he can't use his ability?"  
  
All eyes swivelled to Obi-Wan. Mace nodded, "That is a good point. They never took the collar off? Never wanted you to use your Force talents?"  
  
"No." Obi-Wan shook his head. "It was never mentioned."  
  
Qui-Gon added, "Obi didn't know he had any Force ability when I first met him. The loss of memory was almost total. And remember, wearing collar he could hardly sense the Force, much less use it."  
  
Obi-Wan shivered at the memory and Adi smiled as Qui-Gon reached a comforting hand to his padawan. She turned to Mace, "I agree that speaking to the Ahselaatii Senator is probably our best option. I hardly thing the Vendeans will be keen to tell us they are in the habit of suppressing Force users."  
  
Mace saw an intent look come into Qui-Gon's eyes. "What is it? You've remembered something, Qui, I know that look."  
  
Replaying in his mind the previous day's encounter with the Vendean, Qui-Gon said slowly, "Kadnela didn't seem at all surprised to see Obi-Wan yesterday." He stared pensively at his padawan before turning back to Mace. "He assumed I had bought Obi-Wan. He congratulated me." The master's soft tone  
imperfectly hid his abhorrence for the man and his assumptions. "He was only surprised that Obi had an acknowledged position and he assumed it was as my concubine. I doubt whether he realises that Obi-Wan was a padawan *before* he was a slave."  
  
Obi-Wan returned his master's thoughtful frown. "Surely he must. If the Vendeans caused the raid when Master Temlana's died and I was captured..."  
  
"That is assuming they know enough about the Jedi to understand the implications of a youngster travelling with an adult," Adi said slowly.  
  
Schal nodded, "They may have thought you were Master Temlana's slave."  
  
Qui-Gon put an arm around his padawan and hugged him briefly. "Don't worry, Obi. They are not about to allow pirates and kidnappers into the Senate."  
  


* * *

  
  
Obi-Wan was fascinated by Councilor Windu's office. One level below the Council chamber, the space around the Jedi Temple and the height of the central tower combined to give one of the most spectacular views across city planet. The office itself was a surprise to the padawan. Mace seemed so austere and yet his office was warm and welcoming.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled as his padawan wandered around the room, running gentle fingers along the curve of a statue or across the satiny sweep of the polished desk. Mace was explaining the history of a pair of paintings when Chancellor Valorum and the Ahselaatii Senator arrived.  
  
With a graceful bow, Obi-Wan excused himself and went to wait in the outer office with Councilor Windu's aide. The aide was working away quietly and Obi-Wan was inspecting a huge tapestry when the outer door opened and a young woman wearing the livery of the Senate entered.  
  
She crossed to the aide's desk. "Have they started yet?"  
  
The aide nodded, "Ten minutes ago. I thought you were showing the delegation around the library."  
  
With a shrug the woman sat on one of the low sofas. "So did I. But they wanted to see how the initiates are trained. Kadnela Ves asked a senior padawan to take them to the creche."  
  
Obi-Wan's spun on his heel. Taking a deep breath he managed to ask calmly, "Did you say the Vendean delegate was in the Temple?" At the woman's affirmative, Obi-Wan forced a smile to his lips. "I think I will join them. I'm only fairly new to the Temple myself and I know Kadnela Ves from my previous...occupation." He turned to the Councilor's aide. "Please tell Master Jinn where I've gone if they finish before I get back."  
  
Ignoring the aide's astonished expression, Obi-Wan left the room and headed for the elevators.  
  


* * *

  
  
Somewhat to the Jedis' surprise the Ahselaatii Senator agreed readily to meet with them, displaying only a mild surprise at the request. The Senator's curiosity was evident as Mace welcomed them into his office. Once they were settled the Chancellor explained their interest in the Vendeans and the history of their application to join the Republic.  
  
The Senator confirmed what they had learned from Obi-Wan's research, adding "We feel responsible for them. When we first encountered the Vendean they were much less technologically advanced. Some of our people feel we were wrong to allow them access to technology that they were not ready for."  
  
Valorum nodded, "A common anxiety. We will of course, want to send a team to Vendea before we approve their application, but your opinion is valued Senator." The Chancellor gestured towards Mace. "Councillor Windu has something he wants you to look at."  
  
Mace shook the crystals they had taken from the collar onto the desk in front of the Senator. "Yes. We wondered if you recognise these."  
  
The Senator leaned forward and ran a finger through the tiny crystals nodding, "Yes." He looked at the Jedi with mild bewilderment. "We call them 'heart stones', but these are very small. Too small to be of much value."  
  
Qui-Gon was watching the Senator closely. "'Heart stones'?" He could detect nothing but surprise and curiosity.  
  
"Yes. They are highly sought after. My people have worn them for centuries." The Senator smiled. "It is only fairly recently that we realised that the legends about them had some basis in fact. They are renowned for enhancing emotions. After we joined the Republic we realised that they actually amplify the wearers connection to the Force."  
  
"*Amplify* it!" Mace exclaimed an eyebrow raised in surprise.  
  
The Senator nodded. "You are aware that my people have very little Force sensitivity. Well, it appears that these gems boost our receptivity, in particular to fluctuations caused by strong emotions. I choose not to wear them when I am working, but most of my people do wear them." He paused, then added, "They have deep traditional significance for us. Most families have Heart stones that have been handed down for centuries."  
  
Valorum asked, "I have never seen them before. Are they only found on Ahselaa?"  
  
"We exhausted most of our mines generations ago. The majority now come from one of Vendea's moons." He looked from the Chancellor to the two Jedi. "That is what this is about, isn't it?"  
  
Mace nodded, "In a way." He placed the box containing the slave collar on the desk and opened the lid. "Have you seen this before?"  
  
There was no mistaking the bemusement on the Senator's face. "No."  
  
Mace said, "Those stones come from inside this collar."  
  
The Senator frowned. "Inside? What is the point of putting gems *inside* a piece of jewellery?"  
  
"This collar was placed around the neck of my padawan after he was kidnapped." Qui-Gon said flatly. "It is a Force dampening device."  
  
"Force *dampening*!?" The Senator's hand flinched back from the collar an expression of distaste on his face.  
  
Qui-Gon recounted Obi-Wan's story, ending with his encounters with the Veandean delegate over the preceding days.  
  
The Ahselaatii's expression shifted from astonishment to horror and finally to comprehension. "You're saying that Vendeans kidnapped a padawan, killed his Master and then sold the child into slavery?"  
  
"We don't know Senator." Mace admitted, "We only know that Siviti Kadnela recognised Obi-Wan because he had met him while he was in the hands of the Trade Clans. And that the collar contains these crystals."  
  
Valorum suggested, "Perhaps the Senator could speak to Padawan Kenobi." He turned to Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. As he headed to the door he reached to Obi-Wan through the bond. A slight frown drew his eyebrows together when he realised that his padawan was not in the outer office.  
  
Mace sensed his friend's sudden tension. "Qui-Gon? What is it?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Nothing, I hope." Qui-Gon opened the door. He looked at the two aides seated there and asked, "Did my padawan say where he was going?"  
  
Easily sensing the disquiet behind Qui-Gon's calm demeanour, the young knight behind the desk replied quickly. "Yes, Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi said to tell you that he was going to join the Vendean delegation on their tour of the creche."  
  
Qui-Gon took a moment to release his anxiety then turned to Mace who was standing in the doorway watching him. The Councillor gave a brief nod and Qui-Gon was out of the office and hurrying through the Temple corridors.  
  
Mace turned to the politicians. "If you will excuse me I think I should go after him."  
  
Valorum put his hand on the Councillor's shoulder and smiled a little grimly. "Don't be silly, Mace. We are coming with you."  
  


* * *

  
  
Obi-Wan fretted as the elevator descended through the Council Tower. Logically he knew the Vendean delegate could hardly seize anyone from the heart of the Temple but he felt a compelling sense of danger. Alone in the elevator he bounced gently on the balls of his feet, releasing his tension to the Force.  
  
As he sped along the walkway to the Initiates Tower, Obi-Wan checked his shields. While he was waiting for his Master they had been lightly linked, each aware of the other's presence but shielding their emotions. His spurt of alarm had consequently elicited no query from his Master. Now he thinned his shields a little and allowed the connection to strengthen.  
  
A group of young initiates were exiting a classroom with their teacher as Obi-Wan entered the teaching area. With a polite bow Obi-Wan asked where the Senate delegation was.  
  
Thanking the teaching knight, he grinned at the tiny students and headed in the direction the teacher had pointed.  
  
The warm sense of his Master's presence flooded his mind, together with an insistent query. Relaxing into the comforting presence Obi-Wan responded with a wave of reassurance and affection.  
  
He was drawn to an observation window by the unmistakable sense of a group working together in the Force. A dozen senior initiates were performing basic 'sabre exercises watched by their teachers and a group of non-Jedi. Standing with the audience was Siviti Kadnela and two aides. Obi-Wan was about to enter the room when he became aware of a sense of alarm and confusion coming from further down the corridor. Hesitating for a second Obi-Wan went to seek the source of the disturbance.  
  
The corridor ended with a closed door. Obi-Wan placed a hand on the dark wood. The turbulent emotions flooded his mind, a chaos of alarm and confusion with a single point of pleased satisfaction. Obi-Wan could sense a Jedi, but the other presences had weak Force signatures, jumbled and untrained.  
  
Taking a deep breath Obi-Wan pushed open the door. A group of children were clutching at a padawan who was herding them as far as possible from the tall man he was confronting.  
  
Recognising the tall man as a member of the Vendean delegation Obi-Wan stepped through the door saying, "Ah, there you are Padawan. I've been looking for you." He smiled at the children, "I've been looking for all of you, come along now." He urged the children back through the door before the Vendean could react. Pushing them into the corridor with a gentle Force nudge to get them moving.  
  
"Just wait here, I won't be long." Several of the youngsters were crying and all looked scared. Sending a wave of comfort and safety to them he murmured, "Shh, it will be all right."  
  
As he returned through the door he felt the other padawan's Force signature suddenly fade and found the teenager hunched on the floor, his hands clasping his throat.  
  
The Vendean stood above the teenager, a nasty smile on his face. "Well, well. Two for the price of one." He signalled to an inconspicuous aircar that was heading towards the small landing pad.  
  
Obi-Wan spared a glance at the vehicle then looked back at the Vendean. "How do you think you are going to take either of us?"  
  
"A half trained boy and a pleasure slave," the Vendean sneered, "I don't think I'll have any trouble."  
  
Laying a hand on the padawan's head and nudging him into unconsciousness, Obi-Wan said quietly. "Really." Aware that a pair of Temple patrol cars were also heading towards them he sent a call for assistance to his Master and ignited his lightsabre.  
  
A flicker of doubt crossed the man's hard eyes but a shout from the driver of the aircar steadied his determination. "I don't want to damage a valuable slave, but I will if I have too. Nothing that can't be repaired of course."  
  
Focussed entirely on the man before him Obi-Wan raised his 'sabre against a real adversary for the first time since his kidnapping. The aircar driver drew a blaster and sent a bolt of fire across the observation deck. Deflecting the blast with a graceful sweep of his 'sabre, Obi-Wan placed himself so he was shielding the padawan at his feet.  
  
With a growl the Vendean moved to rush his opponent only to be caught in a vice-like Force grip.  
  


* * *

  
It was almost unheard of for anyone to use Force speed within the Temple. Qui-Gon gathered astonished, and occasionally disapproving, glances as he sped through the complex. He reached urgently for Obi-Wan and was somewhat relieved to receive his padawan's calm reassurance in return. Qui-Gon exited the elevator and headed for the Initiates Tower, sending his concern and an urgent caution to Obi-Wan and cursing their inability to actually speak through the bond.  
  
As he approached the creche a spike of anxiety leaked through the bond and he felt Obi-Wan trying to damp his anger. Sensing he was close to his padawan Qui-Gon slowed to a steady jog, checking each room as he passed. In a large classroom Qui-Gon saw a group of older initiates performing katas watched by a small group of non-Jedi adults and children. Among the audience were the Vandean delegate and his aides.  
  
But there was no sign of Obi-Wan.  
  
Following the bond, Qui-Gon headed towards the end of the corridor where a door opened onto a small landing pad and observation deck. With growing disquiet the Jedi master sped along the silent hallway.  
  
At the end of the corridor a small group of children were huddled together. The master squatted in front of the group. Exuding calm he gently touched each child, talking softly as he asked whether they had seen Obi-Wan. Nodding earnestly they pointed towards the door and one girl whispered, "There's a bad man out there."  
  
Qui-Gon smoothed her dark hair, "Then I'd better go and rescue my padawan."  
  
"And Padawan Nic."  
  
"Rescue him too."  
  
"I will." Qui-Gon assured them. "Now go back to the class room..." A clamour of protesting voices interrupted him. He soothed the children, "All right. You can wait here if you like. Stay together." There was a tug through the bond and the overpowering sense that his padawan needed him. With a rather hasty surge of reassurance to the children he stood and opened the door.  
  
His eyes went first to Obi-Wan. The young man was standing protectively over a younger padawan who was slumped to the ground, a Force inhibiting collar around his neck. Facing the two young Jedi was a tall, solid Vendean. Qui-Gon's gaze was fixed on his padawan and the Vendean but he heard the hiss and scrape of an aircar settling on the adjoining landing pad.  
  
With a surge of proud approval the master saw that Obi-Wan was calm and confident. While focussed primarily on the man before him, his padawan was also keeping contact with the unconscious padawan and with the threat from the landing pad.  
  
Qui-Gon moved to flank the Vendean. He watched as Obi-Wan's 'sabre flashed almost casually to deflect the blaster fire; he saw the expression on the Vendean's face change from certainty to anger and noted the shifting in the big man's muscles as he prepared to attack the padawan.  
  
Qui-Gon sensed the hint of hesitation as Obi-Wan realised he would have to use his 'sabre against a living being. Raising his hand, the master seized the Vendean in a Force hold, freezing him where he stood.   
  
Obi-Wan's breathed a huge sigh as he deactivated his 'sabre. Turning towards his master, his heart in his eyes, he poured relief and gratitude through the bond. Another sigh escaped him as his master's hand gripped his shoulder.  
  
"Well done, Padawan." Qui-Gon nodded his approval. "But next time, let me know when you are going into danger," he rebuked gently.  
  
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's eyes were downcast.  
  
"It's all right, Padawan. You saved this padawan and possibly the children." Qui-Gon smiled. "We haven't talked about how to react to unexpected situations. An oversight on my behalf."  
  
"Master Jinn." Two Temple security staff were leading away the aircar driver while another pair headed towards them. "We will take care of this gentleman now."  
  
The second knight pointed to Padawan Nic. "Should we call the healers?"  
  
"I put him to sleep," Obi-Wan said. "He should be all right once we get the collar off him."  
  
Qui-Gon put his hand out to the Vendean, "The key please."  
  
With something like a snarl the Vendean dropped a small piece of metal into the master's hand. "I am part of the Vendean delegation. I have diplomatic immunity."  
  
The security knights turned questioning eyes to Qui-Gon. "Chancellor Valorum is with Councillor Windu. I think you will find that they are in the corridor behind us."  
  
When the would-be kidnapper had been taken into custody and the rest of the Vendean delegation led off by Chancellor Valorum and the Ahselaatii Senator, Mace turned to Obi-Wan. "Nice work, Padawan." He met Qui-Gon's eyes with a wry smile. "I won't comment on the folly of dashing off without telling your master, I'm sure he will have something to say to you himself."  
  
"Yes, Councillor." Obi-Wan voice was meek but he met Master Windu's gaze squarely.  
  
"Take him home, Qui-Gon. I'll let you know when we need you to testify." Mace patted Obi-Wan's shoulder. He turned to greet Master Schal and bent to speak with the children as the Healer knelt beside the unconscious padawan..  
  
"Come, Padawan. I think we can leave them in Master Schal's capable hands." Qui-Gon handed the key to Mace and watched with a smile as Obi-Wan said good bye to the youngsters.  
  
They made the journey to their quarters in silence. As soon as they were in the rooms Obi-Wan dropped to one knee. "I'm sorry, Master, but I had to do it."  
  
Qui-Gon drew the young man to his feet and pulled him into a fierce hug. "I understand, Obi. But next time you feel the need to rush to someone's aid, let me know."  
  
"I didn't want to interrupt." Obi-Wan returned the hug. "And I didn't think they would actually try to kidnap someone from inside the Temple."  
  
"Well, you have learned two things today, Padawan. Firstly, never head into the unknown without letting someone know, me for preference. And secondly, never underestimate your foe." Qui-Gon tossed his robe onto a chair. "We work together, Obi. Always." He took Obi-Wan's face in his hands. "Besides, I was worried."  
  
"About me?" Obi-Wan's expression was a mixture of indignation and shy pleasure.  
  
"About you, my Padawan." Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's forehead. "Even Jedi Masters worry." He bent a little more and lightly kissed the young man's lips. "Especially when someone we care about may be in danger." His mouth descended again and pressed a little harder, his tongue lapping gently as Obi-Wan's mouth opened. "Fortunately you are able to take care of yourself." Holding Obi-Wan close, one hand at the small of his padawan's back and the other behind his head, Qui-Gon kissed the young man long and hard. "But you don't have to do it alone. You never have to do it alone."  
  
The warm mouth and soft, husky voice drained the last of Obi-Wan's tension and he returned the kiss, pressing his mouth to Qui-Gon's throat as the master spoke. Obi-Wan squirmed against the taller man, arching as a firm hand cupped his buttock. A second hand slid down supporting Obi-Wan as he wrapped his legs around his master's hips.  
  
Qui-Gon nuzzled into the soft skin of Obi-Wan's neck. "When I saw the padawan on the floor, wearing the collar, for a moment I saw you." Suddenly Qui-Gon's mouth was on Obi-Wan's again. This time the kiss was fiercely possessive.  
  
Obi-Wan shivered in delight as his master's big, capable hands tore at his clothing baring his skin to their avid touch. Two steps reached the sofa and Obi-Wan was almost thrown down. He sprawled where he landed looking up at his master with hungry eyes.  
  
Pausing only to divest himself of his belt and sash, Qui-Gon fell on Obi-Wan, his hands covering every inch of flesh as his mouth worked its way down the sleek torso. With a soft growl he swallowed Obi-Wan's penis, licking and sucking until he had his lover squirming in rapture. Gathering his padawan's seed in his hands he pushed aside his clothing and anointed his own erection, pressing a searing kiss to Obi-Wan's belly before he lifted the young man's hips and slid easily into the welcoming warmth.  
  
Obi-Wan lay back as the wake of his orgasm washed over him, his eyes drinking in the sight of his master lost in passion. As he watched his lover tense, their eyes met and Obi-Wan ran his hand down the older man's chest. Making a long sweeping circuit he ran his fingers over the ripples of muscle and bone, returning to Qui-Gon's shoulder. Lifting his other arm he tugged his master's head down until he could take hold of his mouth.  
  
With a hoarse gasp Qui-Gon thrust a final time and collapsed onto Obi-Wan, his head heavy on the young man's shoulder. They lay together, hands stroking sweat damp skin, lips pressed wherever they could reach.  
  
As the cool air in the apartment began to chill heated flesh, Qui-Gon pushed himself up. He took Obi-Wan's hand in his and said seriously, "I love you Obi." He pressed a firm kiss into the smaller palm. "I love you Obi-Wan ...Oban ... padawan..." Punctuating each name with a gentle kiss, he finished with a slow, sweet kiss to his delighted padawan's lips, "...beloved."  
  
Eyes shining, Obi-Wan returned the embrace. "I love you Master." His head dipped and then he met his master's midnight blue gaze, "Beloved..." and with a faint blush whispered, "Qui-Gon."  
  
A huge grin spread across Qui-Gon's face to be replaced by a tender smile as the flush on his padawan's cheeks deepened to a rosy glow and young man hid his face in Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I have wanted to hear you say that for so long."  
  
Trying to regain his composure, Obi-Wan said, "It didn't seem right. First I was your slave and now I am your padawan. Always you are my master."  
  
Qui-Gon stood and pulled Obi-Wan up after him. "Never my slave, Obi. *Never*!"  
  
Obi-Wan met his master's earnest gaze. "It is all right, Master. When I was Oban..."  
  
"Never." Qui-Gon interrupted. "Not even when they led you into the banqueting hall and I first saw you kneeling at my feet. Not when the Trader gave you to me. Never my slave." Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan's face between his hands. "You were always a Jedi."  
  
"I am your slave always." Sea blue eyes shone mischievously into indigo.  
  
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon growled.  
  
"Yes, Master?" Teasing, Obi-Wan twisted out of his grasp and headed for the bedroom. As he disappeared into the other room he called back, "Your Jedi pleasure slave awaits, Master."  
  
  
  


* * *

The next morning they were free to follow their normal routine while the Council and the Senate decided what to do about the situation with the Vendeans. Master Schal sent a message to defer their daily appointment while he worked with the young padawan Obi-Wan had saved, so after morning meditation and firstmeal they spent an hour on Obi-Wan¹s language studies before heading for the practice room.

Obi-Wan was unsettled by his confrontation with the Vendean, his movements tentative and his grasp of the Force a little frantic. After their opening exercises, Qui-Gon pushed the sparring until the younger man was answering him move for move and flowing easily in the Force. 

After almost two hours the master deactivated his Œsabre and bowed to his padawan before gathering him in a quick hug. ³Good work, Obi.² 

Obi-Wan clipped his Œsabre hilt to his belt and returned the bow and the hug. ³Thank you, Master. I needed that.² He hesitated, ³Yesterday, when I drew my Œsabre I was afraid.²

³I know, Obi. It was the first time you faced a real opponent.² Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan¹s shoulder. ³But you did your job even though you were afraid. We will work further on this.² As they gathered their tunics Qui-Gon asked, ³Do you want to use the showers here or back in our rooms?² 

³I¹d rather go home,² Obi-Wan was wiping himself down with his towel but he stopped and looked at his master, ³If that¹s all right, Master.² 

Obi-Wan¹s voice was diffident and Qui-Gon smiled at him. ³Of course it is. It just occurred to me that we could use the communal showers.² As he picked up his own towel, Qui-Gon monitored his padawan¹s response. He had been shielding Obi- Wan from casual contact with other Jedi since they returned to the Temple - sooner or later that would have to stop. 

A distant look came into Obi-Wan¹s eyes. ³I had forgotten about the communal showers, we used to use them when I was small.² He pulled on his tunic and looked up at his master. ³I suppose it would make sense to shower before we got dressed.² 

Qui-Gon nodded, ³But not today. Come along, Padawan. I don¹t know about you but I¹m hungry.²

³Yes, Master.² 

When they had returned to their quarters Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan to shower first and sat at the desk to check his messages. There was one from Master Schal rescheduling their session for that evening and Mace had sent a message requiring their presence that afternoon at the investigation into the previous day¹s kidnapping attempt.

The muted sound of running water coming from the shower was relaxing and Qui-Gon sat for a moment absorbing the emotions emanating from his padawan. The young man took a sensual delight in hot water and the bond was filled with simple pleasure and tired satisfaction. 

Qui-Gon smiled as he hung up his robe and went to collect fresh clothing. They shared a delight in simple pleasures; hot showers and baths, morning sunshine, fresh baked bread, a gentle touch. It would be all too easy to wallow in that delight, but they also shared a dedication to duty. While Qui-Gon had been concerned that Obi-Wan rushed into a potentially dangerous situation without letting him know, he was pleased at the evidence of his padawan¹s instinct to protect. He was also pleased that the lad retained his poise in his first encounter with a flesh and blood opponent. 

Obi-Wan emerged with a towel wrapped around his hips and headed for his room. ³It¹s all yours, Master.² 

³Thank you, Padawan. I trust you left me some hot water.² Qui-Gon smiled at the easy laughter that followed him into the shower. He washed himself quickly then stood under the spray letting the warm, gentle massage ease the slight tiredness from his muscles. 

Schal¹s message had indicated that he wanted to see the Master as well as the Padawan and Qui-Gon replayed the past days in his mind. Obi-Wan had certainly reacted strongly to the Vendean¹s appearance at the Senate but after his initial shock he was handling the situation well. If he tended to cling to his master, well, that was only natural under the circumstances. 

Qui-Gon was under no illusions that Obi-Wan had completely adjusted to his new life. Certainly the lad had recovered most of the skills he¹d had before he was kidnapped, but the majority of his memories remained stubbornly lost to him. He was also a bright and dedicated student; Master Stanell was delighted with his progress and expected him to catch up with his yearmates in time. But Qui-Gon could not help but feel that Obi-Wan was unnaturally reliant on his master for a padawan of his age and that their relationship encouraged that reliance. 

As he turned off the water and reached for a towel, Qui-Gon recalled earlier conversations with the healer. He sighed as he worked a comb through his hair. Schal had allayed most of his fears but Qui-Gon was still uneasy; Obi-Wan¹s devotion made him feel almost guilty. He loved Obi-Wan passionately but he worried that his devotion would impede his padawan¹s progress towards independence. Releasing his concerns for the present, Qui-Gon pulled on his tunic and went to join Obi-Wan for noonmeal. 

**** 

The investigation was held in a conference room several levels below the Council Chamber. The room had been set up so that four Jedi Councilors and four members of the Senate were seated in a wide semi-circle facing a table and a group of chairs. A central place was left for Chancellor Valorum. 

Obi-Wan stood with his master to the left of the Councillors, beside them was Master Schal and the young padawan who had been the victim of the attack. 

The teenager bowed formally and said, ³I didn¹t get a chance to thank you yesterday, Padawan Kenobi. I¹m Beric Fel and this is my master, Master Torgey.² He raised solemn eyes to Obi-Wan and smiled shyly before he turned and bowed to Qui-Gon. ³Thank you, Master Jinn.² 

Qui-Gon returned the bow and the smile, ³It was our pleasure, Padawan Fel,² and turned to greet Master Torgey. 

Obi-Wan smiled at Beric and asked quietly, ³How do you feel? Is your neck all right?² 

Beric nodded, ³It still aches a bit.² He hesitated then asked, ³Is it true that you had to wear one of those collars for *nine years*?²

Obi-Wan nodded. 

³How...?² Beric swallowed and whispered, ³Didn¹t it hurt?² 

³Yes, at first it did, but after a while my neck went numb.² 

³But the Force? How could you stand not being able to feel it?² 

Master Torgey put his hand on his padawan¹s shoulder. ³Padawan Kenobi was injured when he was captured.² The master bowed formally to Obi-Wan, ³I must also thank you, Padawan Kenobi, your quick action saved my padawan from an unpleasant fate.²

Obi-Wan blushed and stammered a reply glad that the arrival of the rest of the participants caused a distraction. 

Chancellor Valorum smiled at Obi-Wan and his master as he took his seat beside Yoda. He was followed by Senators from Alderaan, Chalacta, and Kashyyyk, then the Ahselaatii Senator and a group of aides. Behind them came the would-be kidnapper, flanked by Senate guards. Siviti Kadnela and the rest of Vendean delegation settled into the chairs and another small group of guards took their places at the entrance to the room and behind the Senators and Councilors. 

Obi-Wan felt Kadnela¹s gaze settle on him and he glanced across at the Vendean, keeping his face perfectly calm. He moved back until his hand brushed against his master¹s robe and he could feel the warmth from the big body. A query came through the link and Obi-Wan looked up into his master¹s warm gaze, smiling slightly at the concern he saw in the blue eyes. Calmed by the affection he felt through the bond and the warm surety of the man beside him, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the room at large. 

The Vendean who had attempted to kidnap the padawan was standing before the panel of Senators and Jedi. Chancellor Valorum looked at the Œreader in his hand and said, ³Daveni Welmari, you are accused of attempting to kidnap Jedi Padawan Beric Fel. What say you?² 

The Vendean stared coldly at the Chancellor and shrugged, ³It was worth a try.²

Startled murmurs rippled around the room as the Senators turned to each other. The Wookie growled and Valorum tapped the desk in front of him. ³You admit that you intended to take Padawan Fel off planet? And that you collared him with a Force dampening device?²

³He¹s not much use if we can¹t control him.² Welmari raised his eyebrows and smiled, ³There is a big market for Force sensitives, especially if they are trained.² 

Anger and disgust surged through Obi-Wan. He took a step forward and was stopped by his master¹s hand on his shoulder. As he made himself relax he sensed his emotions mirrored by the other Jedi in the room and to a lesser extent by the Senators and the aides. Kadnela was watching him with a bland expression but his eyes gleamed and Obi-Wan could feel his smug satisfaction. 

Qui-Gon¹s hand tightened on Obi-Wan¹s shoulder and the master murmured, ³Relax, Padawan.² 

Yoda asked, ³Who is your buyer?² 

³One of the Trade Clans usually, they have the network set up, although a private buyer would pay more.² Welmari shrugged again, ³It was a spur of the moment thing really.²

³Who were you working with?² Valorum asked.

³No one.² Welmari was disinterested. ³As I said, it was just something that happened.² 

Valorum leaned towards Yoda and conferred quietly, then he sat up and said, ³Siviti Kadnela, please stand.² 

The Vendean Delegate stood and bowed his head to the Chancellor. ³How may I assist, Chancellor?² 

³Were you aware of your aides activities?² 

³No.²

³But you have contacts with the Trade Clans?² Mace asked. 

Kadnela nodded, ³My business associates sell to the Clans.² 

Mace continued, ³What precisely do you sell?² ³Pharmaceuticals mostly and luxury items; gems, foodstuffs, liqueurs, fine fabric - that sort of thing.²

³Slaves?² Valorum asked. 

³No! No, not slaves.² Kadnela exclaimed. 

Valorum met Mace Windu¹s eyes and the Jedi asked, ³But you are aware that the Trade Clans *do* trade in slaves?² 

³Of course. They make no secret of it.² 

" And you accepted their hospitality.² When the Vendean agreed Mace added, ³Including making use of the slaves?² 

Kadnela looked at the floor, ³I¹m not proud of it, but...yes, I did.² 

³You were not involved in Welmari¹s attempt on Padawan Fel?² Chancellor Valorum persisted. 

³No.² 

Once again the Chancellor conferred with Yoda. ³Very well.² He turned to face the room, ³Daveni Welmari, you are to be held in custody until a Senate legal committee is convened when you will be charged with kidnapping and slave trading. Siviti Kadnela, you are required to remain in the Senate compound until the trial.² Valorum paused and nodded to the Jedi Councillors, ³The trial will be monitored by the Jedi High Council and all participants will be subject to their scan.²

The Vendean Delegate had moved to resume his seat but at this he turned back to the Chancellor. ³What do you mean - scan?² 

Valorum raised his hands, ³Simply that the Councilors will be scanning the participants to ascertain whether they are speaking the truth. It is also possible that the legal committee would approve a probe.²

³Are they doing that now?² Kadnela asked. 

³No.² Yoda answered, ³Never probe a being without advising them we would.² 

Qui-Gon gave a quiet snort. Obi-Wan looked up, a question in his eyes and Qui-Gon shook his head, ³Not now, Padawan.² 

Kadnela looked at Welmari and then faced the Chancellor. ³Daveni has admitted his guilt. What further need is there for a trial?² 

Valorum said calmly, ³It is clear that he was not working alone. It is also clear that someone is selling Force sensitive beings into slavery. These issues need to be investigated.²

³But if it is outside Republic space, what concern is it of yours?² Kadnela demanded. 

Valorum¹s expression was stern, ³Your people want to join the Republic. We need to be certain that they are not involved in slavery in any form and that they do not tacitly allow slavery to occur within their bounds or by their citizens.² 

Mace added, ³In this case the kidnapping was here on Coruscant and the intended victim was a padawan, that makes it the concern of both the Senate and the High Council. And it is not the first case of a Jedi being taken. Obi-Wan Kenobi was kidnapped while on a mission with his master. His master was murdered and he was taken into slavery. This is also a Jedi matter.²

Master Gallia spoke, ³In both cases the Jedi taken was a juvenile.² Her voice was cold and sure, ³You may be certain we will ensure that this does not happen again.² 

Kadnela was about to respond when Welmari said, ³I had nothing to do with the other raid.² 

³Daveni!² Kadnela hissed. 

³I have never killed anyone. I¹m not being framed for murder.² Welmari moved to step forward but was restrained by the guards. ³The government isn¹t involved. Private consortiums deal with the Traders, but we aren¹t involved in the raids. We buy our stock off the pirates.² 

A cacophony of voices and emotions erupted in the room. Obi-Wan moved closer to his master and took hold of a fold of his robe. ³Master.² 

³It¹s all right, Obi. Strengthen your shields, screen out the exterior noise and focus on me.² Qui-Gon helped him dim the clamour in his mind. Beside him he could sense that Master Torgey was also assisting his padawan with his shields. Qui-Gon placed his hand on the small of Obi-Wan¹s back and the padawan leaned into his touch. 

Valorum was trying to gain everyone¹s attention without much success when the Wookie Senator stood and let out a howl. There was startled silence and Valorum smiled his thanks as the Wookie resumed her seat. 

Before the Chancellor could speak, Kadnela declared, ³As a Delegate to the Senate I have diplomatic immunity. I do not recognise the authority of this panel.² 

The Chancellor inclined his head, ³Very well, you will be handed into the custody of Vendean security when they arrive with the replacement delegate.² Valorum addressed the other Vendean, ³Daveni Welmari you may be tried by the Senate Legal Committee or by your own courts. The choice is yours.² 

Siviti Kadnela stormed to the front of the room and snarled. ³You hypocrites. You sit there in judgement but you allow the Jedi to do the very thing you say you abhor.² He looked at the stunned expressions on the Senators faces. ³Are you so blind? What are padawans if not slaves to their masters?² He flung his hand out and pointed towards Qui-Gon. ³Master Jinn is standing before you with his pleasure slave at his side and you criticise us for our trade.² 

³You don¹t understand.² Valorum frowned. 

³Oh, don¹t I, Chancellor.² Kadnela¹s hand pointed to Obi- Wan. ³So Oban may leave the Jedi if he wishes?² 

³Of course he may.² Mace was calm. ³Any padawan may leave whenever he or she choses.² 

³Really.² The Vendean moved to stand in front of Obi- Wan. ³Then come with me, Oban.² 

³You expect him to go back to being a slave?² Adi Gallia was incredulous. 

³Why not? He¹s good at it. He is the best Pleasure Slave the Trade Clans ever had.² Kadnela¹s eyes narrowed. ³In fact, I question how he comes to be in Master Jinn¹s company. Could it be that the revered Jedi kidnapped the boy? Stole him from his rightful owner?² 

Qui-Gon looked down at the Vendean and said mildly, ³I met my padawan on Gatharn, a world that acknowledges Republic law. I doubt they would be pleased to have to explain why a Jedi padawan was in the hands of the Trade Clans. However, as it happens Sed Shara gifted me with Obi-Wan. Chancellor Valorum has the papers if you would care to see them.² 

³So he *is* your slave!² Kadnela ponced. 

³No.² Qui-Gon smiled at Obi-Wan, ³As I don¹t acknowledge the right of a being to own another being the papers are meaningless to me, besides having no legality in the Republic.² 

³Then he may leave?² 

³Certainly, if that is his choice.² 

³Come with me, Oban.² The Vendean appealed, his hand held out to Obi-Wan. ³Your skills are wasted here. You will never be more than an adequate Jedi. You are an exceptional Pleasure Slave.² 

Shaking his head, Obi-wan moved back until he was standing against his master. He reached out through the bond, his master¹s presence was both strength and comfort and he held onto it, pouring back his need and desire to stay. 

³You wouldn¹t have to serve others, only me Oban.² Kadnela entreated, ³Come with me.² 

Obi-Wan shivered and looked up at his master. 

³It is your choice, Obi.² Qui-Gon held his voice calm and steady. 

³Correct he is, Padawan. Always your choice, which life you lead.² Yoda looked at Obi-Wan, his eyes solemn. 

Obi-Wan nodded, ³Yes, Master Yoda.² He faced the Vendean. ³I am a Jedi, Kadnela Ves. My place is here.² Two large hands came to rest on his shoulders and Obi-Wan leaned back into his master¹s warmth. 

The chancellor nodded to the guards and Welmari and a protesting Kadnela were led from the room. As the panel was preparing to disperse one of the Vendean aides stepped forward. ³May I speak, Chancellor?² 

The room went quiet again. Valorum looked at the young woman. ³Certainly you may speak. You are...?²

³Malo Shalvi, Chancellor. I am an administrative assistant. I just want to say that not all Vendean¹s are like that. We don¹t approve of slavery either.² The girl blushed and stepped back. 

The Chancellor smiled, ³Thank you Malo Shalvi. We are glad to hear that. Your Governor said much the same thing.² He stood, ³We will consider further when the Vendeans arrive.² 

Obi-Wan bowed with the other Jedi as the Senators and Councillors swept out of the room. He could feel reaction to the tension threatening to overwhelm him and he breathed deeply, reaching for the Force to quiet his turbulent emotion and trembling muscles. 

Master Schal was speaking quietly to Padawan Fel and with a final word to Master Torgey the healer turned to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Schal laid a gentle hand on Obi-Wan¹s forehead. ³You did very well, Obi-Wan.² A pulse of comfort flooded the padawan¹s mind as the healer drained some of the tension from him. ³I will speak to you after dinner if you wish, otherwise we will have our usual session tomorrow.² 

³Thank you, Master Schal.² Obi-Wan smiled. 

³It¹s entirely up to you and Master Jinn, Obi.² Schal looked at the other master, ³It might be better if you both rest and meditate this evening.² 

As they headed for the door Qui-Gon said, ³Thank you, Schal. We are both grateful to you.² 

News travelled fast in the Temple and they were greeted with support and congratulations as they walked back to their quarters. Obi-Wan was, as ever, the picture of quiet dignity as he paced beside his master, smiling at the well-wishers but allowing his master to reply for them both. 

Qui-Gon could sense his padawan¹s turmoil and as soon as they were in their room he gathered Obi-Wan into his arms, folding his robe around him and resting his cheek on the soft tawny head that rested on his shoulder.

*Determination.* 

He was in a dark corridor. One shoulder against the wall, the other just brushing his master¹s as they held off the raiders. The air was thick with smoke and the moans of the injured and dying. The light was dim and reddish and he struggled to maintain his calm and keep his hold on the training bond. Panic was bubbling just out of reach, threatening to overwhelm him. Pain...pain lanced along the bond and was ruthlessly quashed, replaced with affection and faith and regret. Something stuck his head, stunning him, and his Œsabre was knocked from his hand. The panic climbed into his throat as cold metal closed about his neck and the darkness took him.

*Nausea.* 

He was lying on a cold, hard surface... his head ached ...there were the huddled shapes of sleeping bodies around him but only the faintest sense of their presence in the Force... he frowned. There was a low hum and a shudder in the hard surface beneath him... he tried to sit up... and faded from consciousness.

*Fear.*

Voices... harsh and cold... sobs... moans... rough hands probing and pushing... the slap of flesh against flesh... the thump of flesh against plasteel... the hiss of a hypospray...darkness.

*Confusion.*

His head hurt, his back ached, he couldn¹t touch the Force properly and it felt wrong... hazy... distant. His throat ached inside and out... there was a sip of tepid water, a scrap of hard bread ... and the cold sting of the hypo at his throat as he faded once again.

*Pain.* 

Silhouettes moved through the harsh glare as he squinted and tried to focus. He was on a table... restrained... naked. Voices murmured, ³... dangerous to... other Jedi died fighting...² Hard hands twisted him onto his stomach and pinned his legs apart. ³Nice... soft... never had a La Toree...² Agony shot up his spine as he was opened and probed, his head pressed hard against the thin padding.

*Shame.*

*Disgust.* 

The hands were gone. A new voice, soft and cold, ³Get away from him.² 

³Yes, Nari. Sorry, Nari.² 

The voice snapped, ³Give me the collar.² The hard, cold ache around his throat was replaced with a band of fire and the Force was gone. 

**** 

³I¹m all right.² Schal whispered as he took a shaky step towards his desk. ³Look to your padawan.² The healer poured water into a glass and drank deeply before handing a second glass to Qui-Gon. A little steadier, Schal returned to the couch and laid his hand on the padawan¹s forehead, murmuring, ³Gently, Obi. Come back to us.² 

Tremors ran through Obi-Wan and he drew a sobbing breath. ³Master?² His hand tightened on Qui-Gon¹s and his eyes were wide with the memory of panic. 

³I¹m here, Padawan.² Qui-Gon ran a gentle hand over Obi-Wan¹s hair. ³It¹s all over. You are safe now.² He eased Obi-Wan up to a sitting position and handed him the glass. 

Maintaining a steady flow of reassurance, Schal pulled a chair to sit in front of the padawan. His eyes full of concern and sympathy as he carefully touched Obi-Wan¹s thoughts and eased the traumatic memories back from the forefront of Obi-Wan¹s mind. 

The tension eased slightly from the young man¹s shoulders and he said shakily, ³I didn¹t know... didn¹t remember...²

³I know.² Schal said sadly, ³I¹m sorry that you had to remember. You have done very well, Obi.² A soft chime sounded from the desk, Schal ignored it but it continued to sound. He frowned. ³Excuse me.²

As the healer reached for the comm set, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan against him, stroking his hair soothingly. ³Are you all right, Obi?²

Obi-Wan relaxed against his master, closing his eyes as he soaked up the warm flood of comfort and affection. He said softly, ³Yes, Master.²

Schal looked up at the two men, gauging their emotional state before he said, ³That was Councillor Windu. They want a report on Obi-Wan¹s capture.²

³No.² Obi-Wan flung out a hand as though pushing away something noxious.

³No.² Schal agreed. ³Not yet anyway. I have advised them that you require time to recover.² He met Obi-Wan¹s gaze. ³I¹ll report to them. If they need to speak to you they will have to wait.² He smiled faintly. ³After all, I experienced your memories as well.² 

³I¹m sorry.² Obi-Wan whispered. 

Schal leaned forward and patted Obi-Wan¹s knee, ³Nothing to apologise for, Obi-Wan. I am only glad I can help you.²

Not entirely sure that what he had experienced could be classified as help, Obi-Wan only nodded as the healer stood and said to Qui-Gon, ³Take him home, Qui. I prescribe rest and food - and meditation if you both feel up to it.²

Qui-Gon also stood and helped Obi-Wan off the couch. ³Thank you, Schal. Let us know what the Council thinks.²

**** 

Once in their rooms Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan gently onto the sofa. ³Would you like something to drink?² There was no reply. ³Obi?² 

Dragging himself out of the bleak memories, Obi-Wan shivered and nodded.

Qui-Gon went to boil water, returning minutes later with two big mugs of spiced cha. Obi-Wan was sitting in the centre of the sofa, his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. The pose was formal but it belied the underlying chaos of Obi-Wan¹s emotions. As Qui-Gon set the mugs on the table he allowed his padawan¹s aura to surround him and he sorted through the strands of pain and fear.

³Obi.² Qui-Gon sat beside the padawan and placed a mug in his hands. ³Drink this.² The master carefully folded the padawan¹s hands around the warm mag and guided it to his lips. Obi-Wan took a hesitant sip, then drank more deeply while Qui- Gon steadied the mug moving his other hand to Obi-Wan¹s back, rubbing soothing circles between the tense shoulders.

Obi-Wan sat silently drinking the cha. After several minutes the tension eased a little and Qui-Gon picked up his own mug watching his padawan closely as he sipped the hot, spicy brew. Obi-Wan had gone through so much and dealt with it all so well. It broke Qui-Gon¹s heart to see these memories flung at the young man, to see him have to relive the anguish and horror of his capture.

When he had finished the drink, Obi-Wan sat with the empty mug in his hands, staring into space. He did not know what to do. While he had been a pleasure slave his life had seemed to be the normal way of things. He didn¹t especially like what he had to do but he was friendly with the servants and the guards, and he knew that their lives were not ideal either - at least he had a warm, comfortable bed and plenty to eat and drink. And besides, it was all he knew - all he remembered was the harem and the Trade Clans. Now he had ugly memories of the capture and he was flooded with shame and disgust at what had happened to him. He could feel his master¹s hands on his back and the warmth of his love and concern but it seemed dreamlike - something that was happening to the Jedi padawan not to the slave. He was hovering between the two identities - unsure who he was. His fingers clenched around the mug, tears filled his eyes and his head sank until it touched his hands. 

Qui-Gon felt the spiralling confusion and dismay in his padawan. He took the mug gently from Obi-Wan¹s fingers and placed it beside his own on the low table. Pulling his padawan towards him he wrapped his arms around the younger man. Obi- Wan lay against him, his muscles tight and unresponsive. Pressing his lips against Obi-Wan¹s hair, Qui-Gon murmured, ³It¹s all right, Obi. Relax. You¹re safe.² He turned Obi-Wan¹s face towards him and bent to kiss the tears that were seeping from his closed eyes and then leaned lower to kiss the soft mouth.

With a convulsive shudder, Obi-Wan twisted his head away. He strained against his master¹s grasp, closing his shields and withdrawing into himself. But torment and inexperience allowed wisps of emotion to escape and his master¹s affection to slip through and wind its way around his tormented psyche. Embarrassed, he tried to avoid the mental caress as he avoided the kiss, but his master held firm, physically and mentally offering support as he soothed and reassured. Obi-Wan continued to strain against the touch until he suddenly realised that amid the concern he was feeling there was a suggestion of pain. In trying to avoid his master¹s touch he was wounding him.

Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan close. He took hold of his padawan¹s head and turned it gently but inexorably back to face him. ³What is it, love? What¹s wrong?² His fingers cupped the bright head and his thumb stroked gently over Obi-Wan¹s temple. ³Why don¹t you want me to kiss you?²

The ache in his master¹s soft voice brought new tears to Obi-Wan¹s eyes. He hung his head and whispered. ³I¹m not clean.²

Obi-Wan¹s normally elegant voice was bleak, and so low that Qui-Gon had to bend closer to hear him. ³Padawan...?²

³Those things they did to me...² Obi-Wan shuddered. ³I didn¹t realise. I am not worthy of you. You shouldn¹t...² 

³Oh, for light¹s sake!² Qui-Gon hugged Obi-Wan closer, holding the miserable young man hard against him. ³It is *not* your fault. Those things they did to you...*they* did ...*to* you.² He opened his mind and poured his admiration and respect through the bond. ³You are a Jedi. You are a survivor. You are important...*you*...Obi-Wan...Oban. Those things they did to you ...you survived a strong, wonderful person,² he took Obi- Wan¹s face between his hands and looked deep into the young man¹s eyes, ³and I love you.²

Staring deep into the endless blue of his master¹s eyes, listening to his deep, gentle voice, Obi-Wan melted into the love he was being offered. ³I love you too, Master.² He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. He said hesitantly, ³But now I know what they did...I can¹t forget.²

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan¹s forehead. ³I know you can¹t, Padawan. But it *will* get easier.² He was pleased that Obi- Wan was no longer so tense and withdrawn, now the strong, slender body was lying against his in complete surrender. ³You just need time to heal...these memories are so new.²

A shudder ran through Obi-Wan. He lay against his master, allowing the bigger man¹s strength and surety to surround and support him as he consigned the vile memories to the back of his mind. He felt his master shift and then he was being picked up and carried to the bedroom. He murmured a half-hearted protest as he felt his clothes being carefully removed from his body.

³No?² Qui-Gon asked as he peeled away the inner tunic and bent to lick along Obi-Wan¹s collar-bone and kiss the angle between neck and shoulder. ³You don¹t want me to do this?² He ran his hand down the centre of Obi-Wan¹s chest, returning to caress a nipple. ³Or this?² Unfastening the waist of Obi-Wan¹s trousers and easing them slowly down over his hips. ³You don¹t want me to kiss here,² a warm mouth pressed against the sensitive skin of his belly, ³Or here,² and a tongue trailed down to flick against the damp tip of his cock.

Qui-Gon stripped the clothes from Obi-Wan¹s body and began to remove his own. ³You are so fine, my Padawan, so strong, so vital.² He ran a caressing finger from temple to lips. ³Let me do this. I want to...² He was naked now and lying beside the pale, honey-gold body. ³I want you to want it too,² Qui-Gon whispered.

Obi-Wan was floating in the emotions that were vibrating through the Force around them. He opened his eyes and looked at his master. The older Jedi was gloriously naked beside him, his face full of love, his eyes alight with concern and sympathy. Obi- Wan raised his hand and caressed his master¹s face. He rubbed his palm along the soft bristles of his master¹s beard, fingers hovering over full lips before retreating. He whispered, ³As you wish, Master.²

The expressive voice was low and hesitant. Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Surely they were not back to this - that Obi-Wan could express his desires only as they affected his master. Opening his eyes he saw the anxiety in Obi-Wan¹s, and the need, and the fear. Rising to kneel over the beloved body, Qui-Gon began kissing and caressing his way down his padawan¹s lean torso. ³So beautiful, my Padawan.² He murmured as he ran his lips across the satiny skin between Obi-Wan¹s hip-bones.

Qui-Gon moved back up to kiss Obi-Wan¹s mouth, ravishing it gently and thoroughly. He could sense Obi-Wan¹s desire but he could also feel his uncertainly. Sitting back, Qui- Gon looked down at his Padawan. Obi-Wan¹s eyes were closed and his arms by his sides, his fingers shifting restlessly. Qui-Gon picked up Obi-Wan¹s hands and raised them to his lips, pressing a kiss into each palm, ³Look at me, Obi.²

Obi-Wan¹s eyes flew open and his hands returned his master¹s grasp. Qui-Gon kissed one hand again and moved the other, tangling their fingers together and holding Obi-Wan¹s hand to his heart. He waited and smiled as his padawan¹s fingers slowly uncurled and pressed against his breast. Obi-Wan¹s hand was still as Qui-Gon ran his fingers down the padawan braid, stopping at the bead and running the feathery ends across the young man¹s lips. 

Relaxing into the pleasure, Obi-Wan began to run his hand across his master¹s broad chest. He smiled a little sheepishly whispering, ³Please...² 

³Oh, yes.² Qui-Gon said softly as he gathered Obi-Wan in his arms and rolled until his padawan was lying on him. Placing one arm firmly around the slender waist and sliding the other lower to fondle and tease, Qui-Gon held Obi-Wan close as he began to rock and flex his hips, his breath catching as the pleasure mounted.

Obi-Wan squirmed closer, exalting in the sensual slide of skin on skin. He buried his hands in his master¹s hair, his head bent to claim the waiting mouth as they undulated together. The erotic tension built to a slow, luxurious climax, washing away the worst of Obi-Wan¹s pain as he collapsed in a happy sprawl. Nuzzling his master¹s neck and sighing contentedly as Qui-Gon¹s long limbs wrapped around him Obi-Wan drifted to sleep. 

Waking to the pale light of dawn, Obi-Wan snuggled closer to his master who was now lying on his stomach with his arm flung over Obi-Wan¹s chest. Content to simply savour the joy of lying at peace with his master, Obi-Wan let himself fall into a light trance. His thoughts eventually turned to the recovered memories and he found he could view them more dispassionately - examining the new information and searching for anything that might identify his kidnappers. 

When Qui-Gon woke he sensed Obi-Wan¹s meditation. Rolling carefully, he gently moved his padawan until the young man¹s head was resting on his shoulder, their legs tangled together, then he joined Obi-Wan in his meditation. To his surprise he found that Obi-Wan was replaying the events of his capture, focussing on the voices he heard - one in particular seemed to attract his attention and there was a definite sense of achievement when the padawan roused himself and tilted his head back to smile at Qui-Gon. 

³Morning, Master.²

³Good morning, Padawan.² Qui-Gon ran a leisurely hand down the curve of Obi-Wan¹s spine. ³What brings that gleam of satisfaction to your eyes?² 

Nipping gently at his master¹s throat, Obi-Wan teased, ³Need you ask?²

Qui-Gon growled and kissed Obi-Wan thoroughly. ³Apart from that, brat.² 

Grinning, Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbow. ³I have been trying to decide why one of the voices I remembered seemed familiar. The one who put the collar on me... and I¹m fairly certain he had an Ahselaatii accent.² 

³Can you show me, Obi?² Qui-Gon asked, brushing gently across Obi-Wan¹s thoughts.

Obi-Wan nodded and replayed the memory. 

Qui-Gon considered, ³I think you¹re right, the others sound quite different.² He sat up, ³That one stopped the others abusing you...he seemed to have some authority.²

Obi-Wan nodded, ³They called him ŒNari¹- do you think that was his name?² 

³Perhaps, or a title.² Qui-Gon stood and wrapped a robe around himself. ³We need to speak to Mace and Chancellor Valorum.²

**** 

After firstmeal, Obi-Wan began searching the Temple language files for references to the words he had heard in his memory, beginning with the Ahselaatii files. 

When Qui-Gon emerged from the shower, Obi-Wan was scowling at the screen, one hands flickering over the keys and the other tugging absently on his braid. Settling his outer tunic neatly across his chest and fastening his sash, Qui-Gon moved to stand behind his padawan. ³No luck, Obi?² 

Scrolling back, Obi-Wan pointed gestured at the screen, ³I¹m not sure. There is an island on Ahselaa called Lytorai - apparently named after the legend of a group who settled there centuries ago.² He scratched his head, ³I can¹t see how that could be connected to what I heard.²

Qui-Gon leaned over his shoulder and tapped on the keys. ³Did you try the historical files?² There was a pause then text began filling the screen and Qui-Gon read, ³*Lye¹tori - social and professional caste; Lye¹tor - member of the Lye¹tori caste*.² He slid his finger down the text, ³*Artists, diplomats, scholars and aesthetes - renowned sensualists and mystics; sometimes translated as Soul or Heart¹s Flame. Highest cultural caste; third highest social caste. First recorded reference 9,505 - Second Amtaari dynasty....caste system overthrown during the War of Lechton Raiders - 17,863.*²

Obi-Wan pointed lower, ³There...*after the caste system was overthrown the Lechton despots attempted to enslave the Lye¹tori.... seventy-three committed suicide rather than submit, the remainder believed to have fled to a southern island latter named Lytorai after the caste.*² 

³It says that when the rebels were in turn overthrown the new government tried to contact the Lye¹tori without success. And that a legend grew around their memory, *concubines of great beauty and charm, pacifists with mystic powers...*² Qui- Gon re-read the information. ³Well, Obi, I think that ŒLa Toree¹ is close enough to ŒLye¹tori¹ - I wonder if someone is trying to revive the caste, or at least their own version of it.² 

Obi-Wan twisted in his chair to stare up into his master¹s face, ³But why? And why me?² 

Qui-Gon smiled down into the puzzled eyes of his padawan, ³You don¹t consider yourself charming or beautiful, Padawan?²

Obi-Wan blushed faintly, ³Not really.² 

Tipping the young man¹s head back, Qui-Gon kissed him gently, ³Perhaps I am partial, my padawan.² He said ³I believe we should speak to Councillor Windu and the Chancellor,² as he moved to the Comm unit.

Mace listened to them attentively, ³Interesting... after Master Schal told us about your padawan¹s revived memories, the Ahselaatii Senator asked for time to do some investigating of his own.² He met Qui-Gon¹s eyes with a level stare, ³I¹m expect him and Chancellor Valorum presently, perhaps you would like to join us.²

When they reached his office Master Windu was pouring caff. He was handing Obi-Wan a cup as the door opened to admit Chancellor Valorum and the Senator. Pouring two more cups, Master Windu waved them to chairs saying, ³We believe we may have some indication of the identity of at least one of the slavers.²

The Chancellor raised a questioning eyebrow and would have spoken but the Senator leaned forward. ³If I may, Chancellor, I believe I can through some light on this whole unpleasant event.² 

Valorum met Mace¹s eyes and nodded, ³Please, go ahead.² 

The Senator took a deep breath. ³When Master Schal relayed Padawan Kenobi¹s experiences it was clear to me that some of our... history... was coming to life. The fragments of speech that the padawan remembered contained words in Old Ahselaatii... twisted a little but still recognisable.² 

³Why didn¹t you tell us this yesterday, Senator?² Valorum asked gravely.

The Senator said simply, ³I hoped that I might be wrong. No one has spoken that dialect for centuries.² He rubbed his temple, ³Let me explain. Before the Lechton Insurrection... almost two thousand years ago... our society had a very rigidly structured caste system under the governance a group of twelve families from whom the ruler was elected. The ruler was called the Narai - it was a term of immense respect and the position carried ultimate power in our society.²

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan¹s eyes, ³Nari...one of your captors used that word.²

The Senator continued, ³One of the castes was the Lye¹tori.² He took a sip of caff. ³They are difficult to describe; artists, diplomats, healers... they were most often referred to as companions, someone you could trust, someone you could discuss the most delicate matters with. They were essential to any negotiation as they were strictly impartial.²

Valorum nodded at Mace and said, ³They sound rather like Jedi.²

The Senator smiled slightly, ³In a way they were. They never fought except in self-defence... and they were highly respected and admired. Many rich and powerful people formed life-long relationships with them.² He smiled sadly, ³After the Insurrection the caste system fell into disarray, the ruling families were reduced to a handful of individuals squabbling amongst themselves... and the Lyr¹tori fled the victors who wanted to reduce them to sexual slavery.² 

³All of this is ancient history except that when the Lechton rebels were eventually relieved of power they in turn fled Ahselaa and formed the nucleus of the Trade Clans.² The Senator rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. ³There has always been a small minority that sympathise with the Traders and a desire for the Œold ways¹ has been twisted with that sympathy.²

Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, ³And the fact that they know little about the true nature of the old society doesn¹t stop them wanting to reconstruct their version of it. It is a common story, Senator.²

The Senator sighed, ³I suppose it is.²

Obi-Wan said slowly, ³The Lye¹tori were Force sensitive weren¹t they?²

The Senator nodded, ³We believe so.² 

Valorum frowned, ³But this is ancient history. How does it relate to Padawan Kenobi¹s experience?² 

The Senator almost winced, ³As Master Jinn said, there are people who entirely misunderstand the past, for them ŒLye¹tori¹ means sex slave - or at best, concubine.² He turned to Obi-Wan, ³I that Padawan Kenobi was kidnapped by pirates... but I think that the Clansman who bought him recognised his Force ability and understood the link to the Lye¹tori.² The Senator squared his shoulders and turned to the Chancellor, ³I regret to have to tell you that one of my heads-of-mission has gone missing.² 

* * *

Shay Eletha took the mug from Qui-Gon and watched his friend settle at the other end of the sofa. ³Let me get this straight...the crystals that the Ahselaatii wear allow them to amplify their slight Force sense. But in the collar that Obi-Wan was wearing those same crystals acted as a Force...dampener.² When Qui-Gon nodded, Shay continued, ³I don¹t understand. Why anyone would want to kidnap someone with Force abilities and then stop them using those abilities?²

³So that they can control them while they experience the Force user¹s sensations and emotions.² Qui-Gon sipped his cha and watched as his friend made the connection.

³That¹s...² Shay couldn¹t find the words. After a long moment he said, ³So Obi was a source of stimulation...²

Qui-Gon nodded sadly, ³But what else is a sex slave, after all.²

³True, but...it¹s worse somehow. It¹s as though they had crippled him...blinded him...for their pleasure.² Shay drained his mug and went to pour two shots of brandy. ³Do the Trade Clans deal in the Ahselaatii crystals?²

³No.² Qui-Gon, accepted the glass from Shay, ³I don¹t really understand why Obi was sold to the Clans. Perhaps it was to keep him hidden. The Ahselaatii diplomat who has disappeared could hardly turn up with a slave in tow - either on Ahselaa or here on Coruscant. And the Vendeans don¹t condone slavery, at least not officially.²

Qui-Gon shuddered when he thought of the memories that Obi-Wan had shared with him of his times with Siviti Kadnela. The man had fed on the young padawan¹s fear and shame even more than his unwilling arousal. But those memories were not something he was going to share, even with a close and trusted friend. ³We believe that the attack was a random one and that catching Obi- Wan was pure chance.²

³But they had some sort of Force suppressor with them.²

³True. But there are many people who have some sort of Force ability. The collar they first put on him wasn¹t as effective as the one he was wearing when I found him.² Qui-Gon rubbed the bridge of his nose. ³I hope that we can sort it out. I think that Obi needs to know what happened and why. Since the attempted kidnapping of Padawan Fel, Obi-Wan has become increasingly dependent on me.²

Shay considered, ³I think you are worrying unnecessarily, Qui. Obi-Wan is a little...anxious with strangers but is that¹s only to be expected... and he is working at overcoming it.²

Qui-Gon sighed, ³I know. But...² He drank, then shrugged, ³He was going so well.²

³Obi has spent nine years away from the Temple.² Shay held Qui-Gon¹s gaze, ³He¹s done rem

arkably well, Qui. It¹s a tribute to you and your support, but he was bound to have setbacks. You can¹t expect him to be like other padawans.² ³I know, but I hate to see him like this.² Qui-Gon smiled a little wryly. ³He has been through so much, I want it to be perfect...or at least easier...for him now.²

³Perfect!² Shay snorted. ³Not in this life.² He drained his glass, adding seriously, ³He¹s almost caught up to the other padawan¹s with a lightsabre - he¹s clever and dedicated and kind. Given his history he¹s made remarkable progress.² He leaned over and laid a hand on Qui-Gon¹s shoulder, ³Give him time, Qui. Give *yourself* time.²

Qui-Gon said ruefully, ³Have you been talking to Schal?² He put his hand over his friend¹s, ³Thank you, Shay...from both of us.²

****

Master Torgay watched Bernic chat easily with the older padawan. Their heads were angled together, his padawan¹s light laugh mingling with Padawan Kenobi¹s deeper chuckle as Obi-Wan ruefully described some of the problems he¹d had since returning to the Temple.

³I¹m sorry to interrupt but we have a training room booked, Bernic.² The master smiled and laid a hand on each padawan¹s shoulder, ³And I¹m sure that Obi-Wan will be able to visit again.²

Obi-Wan smiled up at Master Torgay and nodded, ³Definitely. I¹d like that.² He flicked the end of the other padawan¹s braid as the youngster stammered his thanks. ³That¹s all right, Nic. I¹m glad to have someone to talk to, too.²

Sending his padawan to change into his training gear, Master Torgay turned to Obi-Wan, ³Thank you, Padawan Kenobi. I know it must be hard for you to talk about what happened. I want you to know that we both appreciate you taking the time to help Bernic.²

Obi-Wan blushed a little as he met the master¹s serious gaze. ³Actually it helps to know that there is someone who understands what happened to me. I like talking to Nic, I hope we can be friends.² Obi-Wan¹s voice quavered, ³And I am glad that he only had to endure little...of....¹

Torgay patted Obi-Wan¹s shoulder gently. ³He has you to thank for that, Obi-Wan.² He smiled as the padawan hunched an embarrassed shoulder, ³I¹m sure that you will be friends. Please tell Master Jinn that I appreciate him lending me his padawan.²

****

As the door closed behind him Obi-Wan stood considering his options. After a moment he drew his robe around himself and settled into the posture he had copied from his master - hands buried in wide sleeves, back straight and flexible, head tilted slightly forward. Taking a deep breath he headed for the rooms he shared with his master.

At the end of the corridor Obi-Wan hesitated again briefly. If he turned left he could duck into the secondary corridors - it would take him a little longer but he would be unlikely to pass anyone save the odd maintenance droid. Straightening his shoulders he turned right. It wasn¹t *so* far - just around to the south side of the tower and two floors up - it would only take him ten minutes and he wouldn¹t have to actually stop and speak to anyone.

By the time Obi-Wan reached his destination his shoulders were tight with tension. A surprising number of Jedi of all ranks had greeted him during the short walk and while he had given each a sweet smile and a softly spoken word he couldn¹t repress a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind himself.

With an apologetic smile at his master, Obi-Wan shrugged out of his robe and headed to the kitchen to get a drink. Holding the mug between his hands and allowing the warmth to help ease the strain in his clenched muscles, Obi-Wan mused. Why was it so hard to regain the comfort he had felt before the Vendeans appeared? He knew that he was safe in the Temple. In the unlikely event that there was another attempt at kidnap he knew he could defend himself, he knew that his master would sense his danger through their bond, and he knew that security had been stepped up within the Temple walls as well as on a planetary level. But he hated the vulnerability he felt and he hated to think that he might have led the kidnappers to the Jedi in their search for young Force adepts.

Qui-Gon could sense his padawan¹s distress and he sent a wave of affection as Obi-Wan sank onto the couch. ³How is Padawan Fel?²

Obi-Wan relaxed further, settling into his master¹s presence. ³Quite well, I think. Master Torgay says he has been a bit anxious but that he is improving.²

³I expect that talking to someone who has had a similar experience will help him.² Master Torgay request that he would allow Obi-Wan to visit Bernic had pleased Qui-Gon. He had been gently trying to encourage Obi- Wan to spend more time with his age-mates but, while his padawan was happy to accept an occasional invitation to dine with his old creche friends, any suggestion that he spend more of his free time away from his master was met with a shake of his head and a quiet refusal. And while his padawan¹s emotions were still so unstable Qui-Gon was loath to force the issue.

Obi-Wan was thoughtful. ³I know it doesn¹t make any sense - but I feel better knowing that someone else understands.² His expressive eyes flew to his master¹s, ³I don¹t mean that you don¹t, Master...²

Qui-Gon¹s smile softened and he reached over to clasp Obi-Wan¹s shoulder, ³I know, Obi. Though I wouldn¹t want anyone to be put through that, I am glad that there is someone you can talk to - someone who understands a little of what you¹ve experienced. And it is fortunate for Padawan Fel that you are here for him.² He felt Obi-Wan¹s anxiety ease as his padawan realised that his master truly wasn¹t offended by his words.

The pair sat in companionable silence for a time before Qui-Gon said, ³We are being sent on a mission.²

Obi-Wan¹s head came up. ³Have they found the missing diplomat?² His eyes were bright and his voice eager. ³Are we going to get him?²

In the days since the Ahselaatii diplomat had disappeared, both Senate and Temple Security had been searching for him and the Council had warned all Jedi in the field to be alert for attempts to kidnap Force sensitive children and adolescents. Nothing more could be done until they had further information. Qui-Gon was used to the frustration of waiting but the inactivity irked Obi-Wan and he fretted.

Well aware of his padawan¹s concern Qui-Gon said, ³Yes, and no. He *has* been found but he has taken refuge with one of the Trade Clans - the Sonda.² Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan¹s fierce smile fade to a frown. ³What do you know about them, Obi?²

³Not a lot.² Obi-Wan shook his head and frowned, ³I think the Shara were afraid of the Sonda...or in awe of them at least. They are the most successful clan, I think.²

The master nodded, ³That makes sense. The Gatharn government is cooperating and so are the clans who are based there, but they have made it quite clear that they have no influence over the Sonda clan.²

Disappointed, Obi-Wan murmured, ³I understand, Master.²

Qui-Gon could feel his padawan¹s frustration. ³The Senate is trying to contact all the Clans to see whether they can be brought under Republic law.²

Obi-Wan asked, ³Is that what we will be doing? Talking to the clans?²

Qui-Gon shook his head. ³No. Adi Gallia and Invar Lon are heading out to negotiate with the clans. We will be visiting a number of planets that have been identified as vulnerable to attack from the pirates. There are planetary societies that have significant Force ability among their populations and little training. They are the most vulnerable to the raiders.²

Obi-Wan nodded, ³They would be prime targets for the kidnappers. And we can warn them.² Suddenly full of energy, he sprang to his feet and headed for the kitchen, ³Do you want cha, Master?²

³Thank you, Padawan, that would be a kindness.² Qui-Gon leaned back against the cushions, pleased at the satisfaction and sense of purpose that radiated from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon shared that satisfaction - it was good to finally be able to do something to help stop Force adept youngsters being kidnapped. He was also pleased to be taking his padawan into the field. This looked like a mission that would be relatively safe and have particular significance to them both.

The master smiled as Obi-Wan handed him the cha. ³We leave in four hours. You had better start packing Obi.²

****

Obi-Wan had been nervous when they arrived on Jelan. Standing close to his master as they were greeted by a small group of officials, he kept near enough to touch the swirling robe as they were ushered through a series of corridors and into a bright meeting room. By the end of the first day, however, he was beginning to relax. He had only to listen and observe while his master did the talking but he could sense the goodwill emanating from the Jelani officials and was touched by the sympathy they displayed when Qui-Gon explained his history.

For his part, Qui-Gon was pleased to see Obi-Wan gradually relax. Each world they visited increased his padawan¹s confidence as Obi-Wan discovered that he had a natural ability to communicate and a talent for seeing to the heart of the matter. As Obi-Wan became more involved in the mission he began to stray from his master¹s side but Qui-Gon noted, with a rather guilty sense of pleasure, that Obi-Wan was quick to return to him at the end of each day.

On the third moon of Zhak they met the first group of youngsters who had been kidnapped. While Qui-Gon met with the leaders Obi-Wan spent his time with the freed teenagers. The group had been enslaved for a little over two years and the shock of their capture and the *training* they had undergone had led to profound depression and anger that they were having difficulty overcoming. Obi- Wan found meeting them both distressing and heartening - the Zhak youngsters listened avidly to his story and seemed relieved to hear that his life as a slave with the Trade clan had not been entirely awful and that he was accepted back into the Jedi. Paradoxically, however, some of them were angered by his seemingly easy recovery.

Obi-Wan was pensive as their ship left the system. The experience of talking to others who had shared his ordeal had eased some of his own misgivings but it also confirmed the reality of his slavery. He was beginning to realise that since his return to the Temple - and acceptance as Qui-Gon¹s padawan - he had been pushing the more distressing memories of his previous life to the furthest reaches of his mind.

Four days talking with other ex-slaves brought it all back.

Concerned by the sense of sadness and hint of shame that flowed through the bond, Qui-Gon watched his padawan settle into their cabin. He sent waves of praise and affection and smiled as Obi-Wan turned to him, his eyes full of love and gratitude. ³Come to me, Padawan.² Qui-Gon invited, opening his arms.

Obi-Wan walked into the embrace, wrapping his own arms around the tall, strong body. After a long moment he shifted to look at his master¹s face and blushed faintly at the understanding glow in his master¹s eyes. ³I wish I could have helped them more, Master.²

Qui-Gon sighed. ³I know. But some things can only be truly healed by time.²

Thinking of his own experience, Obi-Wan nodded again.

³And we are helping, Obi. *You* are helping.² Qui- Gon rested his chin on Obi-Wan¹s head, then lightly kissed his forehead. ³Dinner, my Padawan, and then we meditate.²

****

Taking advantage of their time on the corvette, Qui- Gon arranged for Obi-Wan to sit with the pilot and co- pilot. Although Obi-Wan¹s piloting so far had been restricted to a Temple runabout, he found that he picked up the skills more easily than he¹d expected. When he commented on it, the co-pilot grinned and said simply, ³Advantage of being Force sensitive, my friend.²

Unable to believe that it could be so easy he had asked his master.

Qui-Gon nodded, ³He¹s right. You will find that you can sense the underlying pattern behind most devices. Not that it means you will be an instant expert, but it does mean that you¹ll find it relatively easy to pick up basic skills.² He smiled at the pleased grin on his padawan¹s face, ³But don¹t try to do any fancy flying until you have had a few more lessons.²

In the days after they left the Zhak system, Obi-Wan spend hours seated in the co-pilot¹s chair, listening intently as the pilot explained controls and protocols. He opened his mind and allowed the information to seep into him, finding the precision and logic of the information soothing and his ability to absorb and apply it reassuring.

The pilot was leaning back to retrieve a box of navigation wafers when Obi-Wan was startled by a burst of energy through the Force. Even as he sent a query to his master, a jolt shook the ship and there was the sound of a blast. The pilot spun back to his panel. ³Raiders!²

Obi-Wan went cold and froze in his seat. He was trembling and his stomach was churning when his master was suddenly in his mind, strong and calm.

The pilot¹s hands were flying over the controls as he checked systems. There was movement behind Obi- Wan and he was urged from the seat as the co-pilot took his position. The comm unit buzzed and Qui- Gon¹s voice filled the bridge. ³Padawan, meet me on the lower deck and tell the pilot to seal the bridge behind you.²

The pilot met Obi-Wan¹s eyes and he pointed to a screen that showed the status of the hull. ³There. They have breached just behind the sensor array. Lucky for us.² He waved Obi-Wan towards the door. ³It¹s a small ship...unlikely to be more than a dozen boarders. Go, Jedi. We¹ll be safe enough here as long as they haven¹t got friends anywhere near.²

Obi-Wan did as he was bid. He could sense the raiders as fuzzy, aggressive presences in the Force while his master shone like a beacon of stability in the midst of the turmoil. Grasping the hilt of his lightsabre he headed towards them.

Obi-Wan was fit and agile but he had not been able to quite master the art of Force-enhanced movement and he muttered under his breath at the time it was taking to reach his master. The battle was clear to his Force sense, a tight, angry mass of greed and hatred. His master was calmly gathering the Force to him to repel the invaders. Obi-Wan was almost overwhelmed with relief as he rounded the corner and finally saw his master at the end of the corridor.

The angle hid most of the attackers. His master was at a corner, defending his position, green Œsabre flashing with almost unimaginable grace and speed. Obi-Wan relaxed a little as he felt his master¹s confidence. With a flick of his thumb he ignited his own Œsabre.

Half-way along the corridor, another raider came into view - a bulky humanoid edging behind his fellows, a blaster in each hand. Without conscious thought Obi- Wan¹s pace increased and he lifted his hand to Force-push the threat away. The raider staggered back, slamming into the bulkhead. With a snarl he lifted both blasters and aimed them at the Jedi.

Qui-Gon sent a warning to Obi-Wan as he saw the threat. Occupied by the blasts from further down the corridor, he sent a Force-push of his own as he sensed his padawan coming to his assistance.

Lightsabre flashing, Obi-Wan swung at the raider who was trying to out-flank his master. Hardly noticing as the man fell to the deck he took his position at his master¹s side and together they proceeded to repel the main body of attackers. Several fell before the remainder began to retreat. More raiders were dispatched before the last two managed to escape through the breach in the hull.

The corvette shuddered as the raider ship disengaged.

His hand clenched around the hilt of his Œsabre, Obi-Wan stared as the gap became filled with the darkness of space. An insistent tug at his mind spun him towards his master.

When Qui-Gon had seen that some of the raiders would make it back to their ship, he looked for the nearest control panel. As the ship pulled away he slammed a force-field in place over the breach. His chest heaving as he steadied his breath, Qui-Gon reached for his padawan. Obi-Wan was staring down at the fallen raiders, his expression an odd mixture of triumph and nausea. With a fiercely protective gesture, Qui-Gon pulled the young man into his arms.

Tearing his gaze away from the bodies, Obi-Wan looked up into his master¹s blazing eyes. Overcome by tremors he buried his head into his master¹s shoulder absorbing the comforting warmth and strength as he was enclosed in a tight embrace.

With a gentle hand, Qui-Gon soothed and reassured. ³Well done, my padawan,² he took hold of Obi-Wan¹s chin and turned his face up. The wide grey eyes were shimmering with tears and relief and his padawan¹s body was tight with adrenalin. ³Shh.... We¹re safe now. You did well.² Qui-Gon pulled him even closer and kissed him hard.

****

When they returned to the Temple, some months later, they were met with the usual Council debriefing. Obi- Wan stood in his habitual position at his master¹s shoulder and answered the few questions that were directed at him. He tried to suppress his nervousness, clasping his fingers together in the long sleeves of his robe.

As the questions came to an end Obi-Wan could sense approval from several members of the council. Heaving a private sigh of relief, he was waiting for their dismissal and was shocked to hear Mace Windu say, ³Well, that seems satisfactory. Now, if you would excuse us Padawan. We wish to speak with Master Jinn.²

Obi-Wan shot a slightly panicked look at his master and was soothed by wave of affection and a nod, ³Perhaps you could prepare dinner, Padawan.²

Taking a firm hold of his emotions, Obi-Wan bowed to the Council and then to his master and hurried out of the chamber. Once in the corridor he gathered his robes around him and took himself to task - he had fought off raiders, surely he could manage to walk through the Jedi Temple, after all, it was his home. His master¹s touch was warm in his mind as he headed for their quarters.

Once Obi-Wan had left, the Council began to question Qui-Gon on the youth¹s progress with a candour that made him glad that they had been tactful enough to send his padawan away. While acknowledging his padawan¹s achievements on the mission, several council members continued to question Obi-Wan¹s fitness as a Jedi.

Qui-Gon took a moment to swallow his instinctive response and was rather surprised to hear both Mace and Adi Gallia vehemently defend his padawan. It was true that Obi-Wan was a brave and talented fighter and a clever and strong Force sensitive. It was however, also true that he was years behind padawans of a similar age in terms of his academic and social skills and that he was still insecure sometimes in the presence of strangers. Qui-Gon believed that Obi-Wan would eventually overcome these problems but he was amazed to hear such wholehearted encouragement - from Mace in particular.

Qui-Gon smiled, ³Thank you, Councillor.² He turned to those who had expressed doubt. ³I understand your concerns. Obi-Wan has been back in the Temple for less than a year. I assure you, we both understand the challenges ahead of us.²

The heads of all the councillors bowed and Yoda nodded. ³Early it is, Qui-Gon, but you have done well with him.²

And that was the end of it.

Qui-Gon smiled a little ruefully as he left the Council Chamber. He had no doubt that Obi-Wan would catch up on the learning he had missed, and even less doubt that his padawan¹s natural skills and intelligence would make him a fine diplomat and warrior. What concerned him was Obi-Wan¹s dependence on him; while Jedi often worked in pairs, a Jedi who was unable to function alone would be, if not exactly a liability, certainly a less flexible member of the order. Qui-Gon shrugged, it would be some time, probably many years, before Obi- Wan would be ready for his Trials. Time enough for the lad to overcome his insecurity.

After being away from Coruscant for almost two thirds the halls of the Temple were relaxing. Qui-Gon strode easily along the familiar corridors drawing in the ambience of peace and familiarity. As he neared their rooms, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan¹s welcome through the bond.

He smiled at the depth and warmth of the feeling and opened his mind, replying in kind. He could feel a sense of anticipation - well, it was their first night home and he felt a certain eagerness himself. On that thought he opened the door, stepped inside and froze at the sight that greeted him.

The lights were turned down and the room was filled with soft, warm glow. There was a subtle, sweet fragrance in the air and soft, sensuous music playing.

A bottle of wine rested in a bucket of ice beside two glasses and a platter piled high with exotic fruit. On the rug beside the table knelt Obi-Wan. His head turned as the door opened and a blinding smile lit his face for a moment before a sensual, wanton gleam came into his eyes. He murmured, ³Welcome home, Master,² and bowed his head to the floor, his braid trailing on the rich blue of the rug.

A blaze of lust overcome Qui-Gon. His padawan¹s skin glowed in the mellow light, elegant curves contrasting with solid muscle. Bare to the waist Obi-Wan was wearing the gold silk pants he had worn on Gatharn. His braid was adorned with tiny bells and ribbons of green and blue were plaited down its length. Eyes already radiant were emphasised and made exotic with a dark smoky line.

Moving closer, Qui-Gon smelt spicewood and cedar as he sank to the floor in front of Obi-Wan, his legs seeming to give way beneath him as he was bathed in an aura of devotion and gratitude, mingled with lust and love. One hand moved to caress Obi-Wan¹s neck as he whispered, ³Padawan ...beloved.²

The soft growl of his master¹s voice sent a shiver through Obi-Wan even as it brought a smile to his lips. Gracefully lifting his head, he purred, ³What is your desire?²

Qui-Gon¹s gaze devoured the wonderful body before him. The silky fabric moulded itself to every inch of his padawan¹s hips and thighs, it seemed to shimmer and beckon to Qui-Gon, reminding him of the erotic shock he¹d felt when this young man was first offered to him. And of the affection that had grown between them as they got to know each other on their way back to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan¹s exquisite voice and open, passionate gaze took Qui-Gon¹s breath away. ³You are my desire, Obi-Wan.² The wide, happy smile that greeted his words warmed Qui-Gon¹s heart and he held out his hand. ³Come to me, love.²

With a lithe movement Obi-Wan was on his feet. For a moment he stood before his master, staring down into eyes deep and mysterious and full of promise, then he reached and poured a glass of sparkling wine and brought it to his lips. Taking a deep mouthful he bent over his master and leaned in, feeding him wine with the gentle pressure of the kiss.

Rising to his feet, Qui-Gon ran his hands down Obi- Wan¹s back, luxuriating in the feel of warm, smooth skin before he moved lower. A sigh escaped Obi-Wan as Qui- Gon¹s hands stroked soft, sleek silk and then tightened to grasp his padawan¹s buttocks and pull him close. As Obi- Wan nuzzled into his neck, Qui-Gon was reminded of the first night on the transport. He could feel Obi-Wan¹s desire and his own erection was pressed against his padawan¹s thigh.

Running his hand slowly down Obi-Wan¹s spine, Qui-Gon sank to the sofa, Obi-Wan in his arms. ³I want you to pleasure yourself.²

Obi-Wan¹s head fell back against his master¹s shoulder . Qui-Gon took his padawan¹s hand in his own and moved it until they were cupping Obi-Wan¹s erection. The young man sighed and began to push the golden fabric down his hips. Shifting his lover until he had a firm hold and a good view, Qui-Gon nipped at his ear. ³I want to watch you.²

Obi-Wan moaned and began to fondle his cock. His master¹s fingers were still tangled with his and they stroked the hard flesh together, Qui-Gon¹s bigger hand gentle and sure as he guided Obi-Wan¹s pleasure. Remembering the first night they had done this, Obi-Wan shifted slightly and reached down to take hold of his master. As he leaned back he murmured, ³Kiss me.²

³Hmm, yes.² Qui-Gon bent and pressed his mouth to Obi-Wan¹s, tongue seeking and twining with its mate. After a moment he pulled his head back. At Obi-Wan¹s murmur of protest he kissed his padawan¹s temple and repeated, ³I want to watch. You are so beautiful - so alive,² he licked Obi-Wan¹s ear, ³so erotic.² And he turned the bright head into his neck, whispering, ³Oh, yes,² as Obi-Wan began to feed on his throat.

The gentle light gilded Obi-Wan¹s skin. Qui-Gon rested his chin on his lover¹s shoulder and gazed down as their hands slid sensuously along Obi-Wan¹s straining flesh. As the pace increased, Obi-Wan¹s grasp on his master faltered but the gentle pressure of Obi-Wan squirming in his lap sent voluptuous pleasure through Qui-Gon¹s body and he was surrounded by the sensory delights of having his love writhing so uninhibitedly in his arms.

To Qui-Gon¹s delight, as his padawan trembled and their hands were coated with his seed, Obi-Wan sighed, ³Qui...oh...Qui-Gon...love.² He lifted shining eyes, ³Thank you, Master,² and twisted so that he was straddling Qui- Gon¹s thighs.

³You are more than welcome, Padawan.² Qui-Gon teased gently then gasped when determined fingers pulled open his tunic then undid his belt and tossed it across the room. ³Is there something you want, Obi?²

"Yes, Ma...² He was stopped by his master¹s fingers on his lips and a quick shake of the leonine head. Tipping his head to one side he frowned for a moment and then realised, ³Oh.² He went back to his task, pulling off his master¹s sash, ³Yes, Qui-Gon.²

Obi-Wan pulled open the fastenings of his master¹s trousers, ³There *is* something. And I think....² His fingers slid confidently into the opening and closed firmly around his master¹s flesh. ³Yes. Here it is.²

Qui-Gon gasped and let his head fall back against the sofa as he sighed, ³And what can I do for you, love?²

Raising himself onto his knees, Obi-Wan began to ease his master¹s trousers down over his hips. Qui-Gon shifted to assist him, sighing again as Obi-Wan settled over him and began to slowly lower himself. Taking hold of Obi-Wan waist he rotated his hips slightly as the tight, slick tunnel slid deliciously over him.

With his hands braced against the back of the sofa and his mouth sealed to his master¹s, Obi-Wan gradually increased his pace, urged on by Qui-Gon¹s hands and voice. At last - and all too soon - he felt the sizzle of orgasm gather and he threw his head back, slamming onto his lover¹s hips and howling his pleasure to the stars.

Qui-Gon held on as long as he could but the sound of Obi-Wan and the contractions around his penis tipped him over the edge. He held Obi-Wan¹s sweat slicked body to him as he poured his heart into his padawan.

They rested for a time, feeding each other pieces of fruit and sipping from the same glass. Then Qui-Gon unbuckled his boots with a deft application of the Force and eased them off his feet. He stood, his padawan in his arms, and let his trousers drop to his ankles were he stepped out of them. Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon¹s waist and allowed himself to be carried to their bed.

Later, tired and happy, Obi-Wan lay curled around his master. The only light came from the pale gleam of the moon. He could feel his master¹s love and pleasure as Qui-Gon¹s big hand gently ghosted over his back, tracing the long curve of his spine. He turned his head a little and lightly kissed his master¹s throat. They had made love twice more; hard and fast when Obi-Wan knelt and presented himself, sending vivid images of his desire through the bond; then slow and sweet as they drove each other to mindless ecstasy.

Obi-Wan snuggled closer as he felt his master drift into sleep and relaxed into the comfort of Qui-Gon¹s presence, wanting to stay awake to savour his happiness.

Obi-Wan had planned his surprise as a Œthank you¹ to his master because they had returned from a successful mission, because this was his home and because tomorrow it would be a year - by the Coruscant calendar - since he had been given to the unknown Jedi in the Gatharn banquet hall. He still couldn¹t remember everything about his childhood and he knew he had many years of training and study before he could become a Knight himself - if he ever did - but he also knew that he was loved and that there was life for him here with this man. He also knew that he had been a valuable partner during their mission, that he had helped both his master and the societies they had visited and who were at risk from the raiders. Most of all he knew that he had saved his master from injury and possibly death when they were attacked.

Qui-Gon drifted back to consciousness. Aware that Obi-Wan was awake he rolled over and wrapped himself around the smaller man. ³Still awake, Padawan?² He nuzzled into Obi-Wan¹s hair and murmured, ³Good, there is something I forgot to say.²

Worried that the Council may have been critical, Obi-Wan twisted until he was facing his master, an anxious question in his eyes.

He was about to speak when Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to his forehead and said, ³Happy anniversary, Padawan,² Qui-Gon dipped lower to claim his mouth, ³and welcome home.²

Finis


End file.
